It's About Power
by jesuisl0ser
Summary: Spike & Buffy are reunited as evil approaches; they, the Scoobies & Slayers everywhere are thrown into situations beyond their control. Eventual Spuffy, slight Bangel. ANGEL Crossover. SEMI-consistent w /Buffy Season 8 and Angel After the Fall comics.
1. Dreams

**A/N: Hello, all. In case you aren't familiar with the comics, here's some information you need to know for this story. (SPOILERS AHEAD!) In Season 8 of _BtVS_, Buffy initially has headquarters set up in a Scotland fortress, training Slayers there, which is where this story is set. Andrew and Giles are doing the same in England. After the Angel finale, according to _After the Fall _and _Aftermath_, The Senior Partners gave AI one more chance after "Not Fade Away" when LA was sent into hell, sent 'em back to the final battle and they averted losing, and are now busy keeping LA safe again.**

**Besides this info, my story isn't technically "canon" with those of the comics. Once in a while I'll reference the plots of either comic but will explain them as best I can.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own _BtVS_. Mutant Enemy does. This is just for fun.**

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* * *

**

_No!_

Buffy Summers sat up in a cold sweat, panting, eyes darting back and forth frantically. Yes, a dream. It had all been a dream. But the point still stood: _He_ had been in her dream. This was the first time in _months_ that she'd dreamt of him.

There had also been many others; people she recognized and people she didn't: Willow, Xander. Andrew. Some Slayers as well, who looked terrified. There were screams. Lots of fire. Deaths.

And Spike. The bleach-blonde hair, the infamous black leather coat. It was him, right down to the piercing blue eyes.

The final battle in Sunnydale happened so long ago. And yet, Buffy could still see him clearly in her mind, holding her hand as he burned. A lot had changed since then. Hell, Buffy had tried dating. _Experimenting_, even. She liked to think she was happy where she was, right now, fighting the good fight without dragging a significant other along for the ride.

There had been a considerable low in the amount of Big Scaries lately. Mostly, she'd been spending a majority of her time training and keeping the Slayer image out of the media as much as possible, and doing all those Boss-type duties. But now, Buffy had a feeling that this hadn't been just a dream.

And as she tried to fight the image of Spike falling to the ground with a _thud_ out of her head, she knew. Something was going to happen. Soon.

* * *

"Oh, bloody _hell_!"

Spike collapsed onto the hardwood floor, his jaw clenched. Last time he'd checked, he had been lying in bed, oblivious to the world.

Apparently _too_ oblivious, as he'd rolled right off the mattress and landed flat on his back. "Ow."

He sat for a moment, blinking stupidly at the sunlight trying desperately to shine through the closed blinds, and that was when he remembered.

He'd been dreaming. And it hadn't exactly been an experience full of rainbows and cupcakes, either.

He remembered being in close proximity to flames, so close that he could feel his coat burning against his skin. He remembered hearing Illyria's voice, and Angel's, oddly enough.

And he remembered Buffy. She looked like she was at her wit's end. She looked _afraid_.

His thought process as he dodged all the flames had been the same throughout the dream: _Buffy's in trouble. I need to help Buffy._

And yet he'd felt so _tired_. So useless. Stumbling around like an idiot, blind even though he could see...And then he fell. Of course, that part actually _had_ happened.

Spike leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. This had been no ordinary dream; he was sure of that.

He'd tried so very hard to push Buffy out of his mind the last couple of years. He and the big poofter Angel had decided a while back that if she was hooking up with the damn Immortal, the point of trying to see her again was completely moot.

The last time he'd seen her, Spike felt they could've had something. Something they both wanted, if fate had allowed it. But fate never seemed to be on Spike's side.

His mind went through a brief replay of the last few years. He'd fought side-by-side with Angel until LA was sucked into hell, and even then, he'd kept on fighting. Only when he, Angel and most of their team had died fighting the good fight did the Senior Partners of Wolfram and Hart, the evil law firm that caused most of LA's problems of mystical nature, decide to step in and give them a second chance. They'd been sent back to that fateful apocalypse to make things right, and they did. Now, they _continued_ to fight to keep LA right where it was.

Sure, he'd had a lot on his plate. But he never stopped thinking of her.

It was clear she'd moved on. And he really wanted to. But the Slayer had always been floating around in the back of his mind.

Now she was front and center, and all he could think was, _What if she _is_ in trouble?_

He looked at the clock on his bedside table. It was 3PM.

He needed to make a phone call.

* * *

"Spike, you're an idiot, do you know that?"

Spike rolled his eyes, taking a sip of blood from a black mug, shifting his cell phone from his right ear to his left, letting it rest on his shoulder. "While we're on the subject of idiots, has Connor even _attempted_ to teach you how to work a bloody cell phone? I've been trying to call you, O Great Poof."

"Not the point," was Angel's clearly annoyed voice on the other line, "Plus, it's the middle of the day. You of all people should know I was sleeping."

"Oh, poor Angel needs his _nap_?" Spike retorted, smirking into the phone. He very well _did_ know that Angel would be asleep around this time, being a vampire like him, and all. But he just _loved_ pissing Angel off. Some things never change.

"Shut up. What do you want, Spike? You're supposed to be working on stopping those purple slime demons from ransacking those Hollywood trailers."

Spike shrugged. "Eh. I mean, who _hasn't_ wanted to trash a celebrity's trailer?"

"_Spike_."

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, you big wanker," Spike spat, "You can't very well tell me what to do. Technically, I don't work for you anymore."

"Yes, but we're all responsible for making sure LA doesn't go to hell, like, you know, the _last_ time?" Angel muttered.

"Yeah, uh, well . . . " Spike sighed (though the breath wasn't needed), "I'm-not-going-to-be-around-I'm-going-to-Buffy's." He said the last bit in one quick breath.

"You _what_?"

"You heard me, poofter. Buffy's in trouble. I know she is. So I'm going to need you lot to hold the fort until I get back."

He could almost hear Angel's anger on the other line. "Are you out of your _mind_? You're just _deciding_ to go track Buffy dow-"

"Not track her down. She's in Scotland. Relocated, I wager," Spike said thoughtfully, "Point is, I had this _dream_ thing..."

"Oh, _great_. You've got to be kidding me. What, do you think you have prophetic dreams, now, or something?"

Spike once again rolled his eyes. He'd spent quite a bit of time thinking about this situation, and had an answer for every excuse Angel had to throw out: "That's the bloody thing. If you'd just stop for a sec' instead of interrupting me with your whiny babbling, you woulda known that already."

A sigh. "Fine. Talk."

Spike quickly rattled off the dream he had, explaining how he'd never had any like this one before. "Look, Poof. This isn't a regular thing for me, having dreams like that. I'm not big on the wishy-washy crap. But something's wrong," he finished.

"Even still," Angel replied, "Whether there's something wrong or not, Buffy's made it clear she wants to handle things herself."

There was a moment of silence on the line until Angel spoke again: "You know, it's not so unusual. I've dreamed about her, too. I still do."

Wanting to save himself from the feelings Angel was clearly trying to distract him with, Spike quickly retorted, "Psh. _Please_. This is _different_, and you damn well know it. You just don't want to see me save her when you want all the glory."

"You're an idiot, Spike," Angel repeated, his voice rising, "And don't expect me to sympathize when you come home within a day after she convinces you she doesn't need saving. Buffy's never _needed_ saving. You're making a mist-"

Spike jabbed a thumb into the "END" button on his cell phone, not wanting to hear the rest.

He had to book some flights, and fast.


	2. Departure

**A/N: Glad you guys think this story has promise! Honestly, I just wrote this for fun over the summer, but criticism is welcome, anyway. Someone asked whether or not Buffy knows Spike is alive here-it doesn't say in Season 8 (although it may be mentioned in the next installment of the comics, actually), so I'm putting my own twist on it. DISCLAIMER: Own nothing except original characters.**

* * *

"Something's coming, Buffy."

Looking up from one of the bills she was writing out, Buffy faced her best friend Willow Rosenberg as she stood in the doorway of Buffy's room. _Don't I know it_, Buffy thought, but she didn't want to tell her friends about her dream just yet-it could mean anything at all, she'd convinced herself, or _nothing_ at all.

However, she had a feeling it had to mean something-considering it had been three days since she first dreamt of this apparent 'epic battle' she and her friends would face, and she'd had the same dream every night since. It seemed a little foolish to hope that it truly meant nothing at this point, but, hey, Buffy figured, it's worth a shot.

Nonetheless, she pressed: "What do you mean, Wil?"

Willow ran a hand through her red hair. "I can feel it. My power's strong enough now that I...I can just feel it."

The fact that Willow was a witch was obviously a factor in her judgement of these things, which was why, more often than not, Buffy found that Willow was quite right about impending doom.

And yet Buffy forced a shrug. She couldn't let herself get nervous. Not yet.

"I mean," Willow went on, "Isn't it odd? We haven't had to face anything big in a long time. Besides, y'know, the occasional demon and vamp." She paused. "Okay, maybe the _daily_ vamp, but vampires are crawling everywhere, all the time. We have all these Slayers here, and all the slayers with Andrew and Giles and Faith, and all over...and there's just...nothing."

Willow had a point, and Buffy knew this. "I...I dunno, Wil. If you feel something's coming, then maybe there is."

Though she wouldn't show it, Buffy was dying to know what that 'something' was. 

* * *

Suitcase in hand, Spike made his way out the door of his little mansion (okay...so maybe he did enjoy some things he'd had during the lovely field trip the entire city of LA had made to hell. This was one of them). All he'd brought was a change of clothes and some blood. What more could a vampire need?

"I do not understand."

Spike closed his eyes, turning to face who he knew was Illyria. Blue hair shining in the moonlight, her head was cocked to the side in confusion. Illyria had gone off on her own for a while after LA had fallen to hell only to come back up again. But recently, Spike found that whenever he needed her most, to fight the big fight, she was there.

"Ah...Blue. Didn't we say our goodbyes earlier?" Spike asked, using his endearing nickname for her (which he knew she hated).

"You are a vampire. You are dead, and yet you think with your heart, rather than your mind."

Taking a few steps toward her, Spike looked her in the eyes. Blue eyes met bluer. "Yeah, I guess I do," he said. "You've been appearin' around here a lot nowadays. It's good. The Great Poof needs you here. You mind taking over a bit while I'm gone?"

"It is not my responsibility. You are leaving when you are needed here," she snapped.

Spike smirked. "Shucks, Illyria. You gonna miss me, pet?"

"No," she said flatly, although he saw a glint in her eyes that told him yes. Illyria always fought with the humanity in her that was incessantly threatening to inch its way out into the open.

He thought he saw a bit of Fred looking at him just then, the innocent, sweet Winifred Burkle whom the spirit of Illyria had taken over after her death, but that happened quite often.

"You and Angel have it covered here," Spike said, "And I won't be gone long. I just...I need to do this, yeah?"

He nodded to her and turned to walk away, partially so he wouldn't have to say goodbye to her again, but mostly just so she wouldn't punch him in the face or something to that effect.

Well, he thought, absently taking a cigarette out of his pocket, Here I go.

* * *

"I think we are almost ready, Sir."

In the depths of a Scotland forest, they all sat in a circle, gazing up in admiration at their leader, who hovered in the middle. There seemed to be power practically rolling off his shoulders. By the look on his face, he certainly was aware of it.

And yet, he furrowed his eyebrows at this comment directed toward him and replied, "No, we are not."

The one who had addressed him, a bright red Ngyya demon, seemed taken aback at this. "Is there something we have missed, Feared One?"

"Yes. Another one's coming. To help them. A vampire with a soul."

One of the other demons stood up. "Angelus?" he asked, clear anxiousness in his tone.

"No, you fool. The other. And sit down. I feel weak today . . . " The leader sighed, closing his eyes, letting dark hair fall in front of his face as he bent his head. "I need all of your energy. But that will come to pass. This borrowed power?" He gestured to the forest around him. "It's nothing compared to what we will have when Evil rises again."

The others nodded in agreement, mostly because they knew they had no choice but to do so.

"Great Maximus," said one, "Does the vampire know of us?"

The leader, called Maximus, shook his head. "He is ignorant. I feel his confusion even from miles away-all he sees is the Slayer. Yet another one driven by compassion." He rolled his eyes. "However, he is strong. He could prove to be a liability; a distraction. If he fights by the Slayer's side, the more of a chance they has against us."

There was silence for a beat, until one asked, "So what will we do about him?"

"We'll do what we have planned to do to all of them," Maximus snapped, taking a final glance around at the demons and warlocks and creatures of the night gathered near him, "We'll break him down, piece by piece. Because, after all . . . "

He slowly began to ascend into the air as the others watched. "It's always been about power, my friends. And when they start to lose it . . . it will tear them all apart."

* * *

Dawn Summers took a deep breath, flopping down on her queen-sized bed. Course work? Not the best part of college, that was for sure. She had a paper due in a week's time, and there was so much information to cram into seven pages double-spaced.

Another elongated sigh as Dawn brought her fingers to rest on the keyboard once again. Back to business, I guess...

She was just getting back into schoolwork-mode when she distinctly heard a knock on the front door of the Slayer fortress. She shrugged, hoping her sister or someone else would answer it, and only got up when the knocking persisted.

"Alright, alright . . . " she muttered. She figured Buffy must be busy, and with a quick hop off the bed she was up and heading down the stairs.

She checked her watch briefly as she shuffled toward the door: It was 9PM. Who would be visiting at this hour?

Eyebrows raised in suspicion, she grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, opening the door.

She almost fainted at the sight of the person standing on the other side of the door.

In a barely audible, shaky voice, she said: "Spike?"

* * *

Spike was nervous.

Of course, he wouldn't have admitted it outright, but bloody _hell_, was he nervous. Who knew what awaited him now that he was here at the Slayer mansion? He'd lifted the big brass knock on the door, and was now standing outside under the starry Scotland sky, tempted to light himself yet another cigarette.

He surveyed his surroundings. The place obviously had a feel of protection about it, like its walls served as some mighty shield, encompassing all the wee little Slayers inside, safe and sound. And yet it also seemed relaxed, in a way...orderly. It was a lot more than what could've been said about Sunnydale, back when potential Slayers were pouring in from around the world and all they had was the Summers family living room to keep them in.

So many changes. So much he'd missed.

He had been staring at his shoes by this point, fidgeting a little, waiting impatiently for the door to open, when it did.

Dawn Summers stood on the other side of the threshold, looking more grown-up-and more like her sister-than ever. She'd cut her hair a little-she wasn't donning the long brown locks Spike remembered. Then again, she'd been sixteen years old the last time he'd seen her.

God...she was an _adult_.

And yet, out of habit, he called her by the nickname he'd designated just for her so long ago: "Hey there, Nibblet."

She blinked at him for a moment, looking him up and down. "Wow...I..._wow_. So, it's true, then. You're alive."

She even _sounded_ older. "More or less, yeah," he replied, "I mean, as alive as a vamp can get. You know how it is."

A part of him wanted to reach out and hug her, as memories flashed across his consciousness of playing Go Fish in the basement with her and saving her from many a nasty demon and taking care of her when Buffy hadn't been around. Another part of him wanted to kick the former's sentimental arse to next Tuesday for being so bloody sappy, and it was what kept him standing there, waiting for her to respond.

Finally, she said: "Yeah...I do." She kept looking at him, as if she thought he wasn't really there. He saw the skepticism in her gaze. "It's been a really long time, Spike."

He nodded. "It has, 'Bit."

"It's Dawn," she corrected, "Just Dawn, now." There wasn't any harshness in her tone, and yet it was enough to make Spike duck his head and wonder why the hell he'd even bothered to show up and my God how things have changed and what was the point? "What are you doing here?"

It was a loaded question. _I still care a hell of a lot about your sister, so much that I hauled my arse over here to help her out_, was what he wanted to say. Instead, he replied: "It's, uh, kind of a long story."

Then she gestured toward the inside of the house. "Come in."

Well, that was a step in the right direction, at least. She trusted him enough to invite him in. This was good.

He thanked her and followed her through the door. The inside of the place had the same feel as the outside.

Spike was just about to ask Dawn just exactly how she knew about his whereabouts post-Sunnydale, when he heard the familiar voice he'd been waiting to hear for a very long time:

"Dawn? Who was at the door?"

_Oh, bollocks_. Spike turned to where the voice was coming from, feeling as if he'd burst with anticipation, and then he saw her.

Blonde hair, hazel eyes, perfect skin, small but built and lovely and wonderful, and it was her; for the first time in years, he was looking her in the eyes.

And all he could muster was her name: "Buffy..."


	3. Deliberation

"Spike?"

Buffy leaned against the wall, trying to look like she wasn't completely and utterly shocked by the situation she'd just stumbled into. This was no dream. No joke. It was Spike, the vampire she'd watched burn to save the world in Sunnydale, California way back when.

He stood there, his hands stuffed in his infamous black-leather-duster pockets, eyes shining.  
For a moment, Buffy could do nothing but stare.

He took a couple of steps toward her, and she tried to avert her gaze to the floor or to Dawn or to _anything_else because she knew he was looking at her with the adoration he clearly still had for her after all this time. Shit.

"Hey. Lookin' good, pet," he said.

Suddenly, Buffy was angry. She was angry with him for essentially avoiding her all this time, and for just now barging in like it was no big deal. Clenching her fists, she finally met his gaze.

Those blue eyes. Dammit.

"You..." She sighed, trying to compose herself. "You're...here. Why...?" she trailed off, finding that she was shaking, and God, why was she shaking?

Spike spoke calmly, as if he could tell how she was feeling (how is it he could still read her like that?), as he replied, "Somethin' I needed to talk to you about. I...wanted to do it in person. Fact is, I'm a bit worried. Impending doom's somethin' people like you and me face all the time, but I think this time somethin' might be off."

Doom? As in the doom that her dreams lately have been so kind to inform her of? What was going on?

"You, uh..." He sniffed, and she knew he was trying to play it all off just like she was (they'd always been so alike, though neither ever liked to admit it), "You look great, Buffy. Like I said."

Ha. Is that all he had to say for himself? Buffy wanted to punch him right in that stupid chiseled jaw of his.

She kept her composure, though, and chose to ignore his last comment with her response: "Okay. We can talk in private."

She saw a look of utter sadness flash across his face briefly. _What was he expecting?_ Buffy thought, seething, _a welcoming parade?_

Dawn, meanwhile, stood shifting her gaze between the two of them, eyes widened. "I'm just...uh...I'm going to leave you two." She flitted off, leaving them both to awkwardly stand in the front foyer in silence for a moment.

"Well," Buffy finally said, "Welcome to Slayer Central." She gestured for him to follow her, and tried not to look behind her on the way.

She was afraid that if she did, she'd fall to pieces having to look into his eyes again.

* * *

Spike honestly couldn't fathom what was happening.

Buffy had looked at him with such coldness; he was completely taken aback at how she'd reacted to their reuniting after two whole years.

He was beginning to think that it had been a terrible idea to come to Scotland. He could clearly envision that git Angel rubbing it in his face with a great big _I told you so!_, and this made Spike feel even worse.

He followed Buffy in silence, unsure of what to do or say. She led him into a little office area, with a couch and two chairs, and a desk that was cluttered enough to belong to her.  
And then they continued to stand, facing each other, like before. They were going in circles, and Spike was getting sick of it.

"So..." Buffy said, "Let's hear it. The doom, and whatnot." Her voice was very quiet, and if Spike wasn't equipped with super-hearing, he probably would've missed half of what she said.  
But oh, no. Hell, no. Spike was not going to talk about any of that when there was a wall of tension between them so thick that one would have to use an axe to cut through it.

He tried to make eye contact with her to no avail. Finally, he decided he had no choice but to speak. "Alright, Buffy. I'm done beating around the bloody bush."

She finally looked at him when he said this, and he went on: "You didn't seem all that surprised to see me here. In fact, you seem right pissed off. I haven't even been here ten minutes." He closed his eyes, not wanting his temper to get the best of him. "Just...stop actin' all elusive and tell me what's going on."

Buffy sat down in one of the chairs, staring at the floor. "It's been over two years, Spike. Did you think I wouldn't have figured it out by now? That you're alive?"

Spike shrugged. He couldn't help but ask: "Andrew didn't tell you?"

Within a few months of his...resurrection from being deader-than-dead, Andrew Wells paid a visit to Angel and the crew in LA. Spike had made him promise not to tell Buffy that he was alive. Of course, he never figured Andrew would actually go through with the aforementioned promise, taking into consideration Andrew's, simply put, _spazzy_ tendencies.

"No," she said, "Not until he knew I'd found out. It wasn't that difficult, Spike. News of a couple of apocalypses in LA travels fast." She was glaring at him now. "What he did say was that you planned on telling me."

Uh-oh. Spike once again found himself staring at his shoes. "Yeah, uh. I was. Eventually."

"Eventually?" she repeated, her voice rising, "How long were you going to wait, Spike?"

"I wanted you to live your own life, Buffy. Wouldn't do either of us any good if I just walked right into your life again."

She laughed bitterly. "You're starting to sound like Angel. And, 'walk right in'? Gee, Spike. That says a lot, considering it's what you're doing _right now_."

She'd driven him into a corner, and Spike was completely at a loss of what to say.

But there was no need to say anything, for Buffy went on: "You can't just come here and expect things to be the way they were."

Now he was getting angry. "Now wait a bloody minute, Slayer. I never said-"

"You didn't have to," she interrupted, "I know you wanted me to just come crawling back to you, didn't you?"

"_What_? Are you completely out of your soddin' _mind_?" he snapped.

She stood up, moving inches away from his face, and although she wasn't as tall as him, the fire in her eyes gave her an entirely new height. "Sunnydale is over, Spike."

"Yeah, I kind of knew that. You know, with my dying while it fell apart, and all," he retorted.  
She ran a hand through her hair. "All this time, I only knew half the story. I heard about you working for some evil law firm, and that it got destroyed and there was some kind of apocalypse in LA that you and Angel somehow managed to get yourselves involved in."

"We didn't have a choice. And Wolfram & Hart wasn't..._dammit_!" He slammed his fist against the wooden desk. There was so much she didn't know; so many judgments she was making. "You don't have a clue what you're talking about, Buffy."

"Well, maybe if you'd thought for a second about coming here and expecting me to just understand what's going on, this wouldn't be happening."

Spike was livid, and by the look on Buffy's face he could tell she felt the same. There was yet another beat of silence between them as they both tried to calm themselves down.

Finally, he spoke again: "I'm not asking anything of you, Buffy. I came here because I thought you were in trouble. Or that you will be. And, to be completely bloody honest..." He sighed. "I wanted to see you again. I damn well know Sunnydale was years ago. And I know you have a different life. You're a leader. I mean, you've always been a leader but...in the bloody absolute sense of the word, here you are."

He looked at her again, and noticed her expression had softened, so he went on: "I don't know what you were told about Wolfram & Hart, or about how I was brought back. But if you'll give me a chance to explain...maybe things'll get a bit clearer, yeah?"

She nodded, slowly, and sat back down again. "Yeah...yeah, okay." Her voice was calmer.

He sat down in the chair across from her. "Right. So, I reckon I should tell you why I'm here first?"

"That would be a good start."

Their eyes met once again, and for a second, Spike saw a flicker of the Buffy he knew years ago; a remnant of the fiery chemistry that used to be between them.

He figured as long as he was here, he might as well leave a good impression. The last thing he wanted was to leave this place knowing they would never speak again.

Because the last time he had that feeling, he recalled, he had been burning to a nice crisp at the bottom of the Sunnydale Hellmouth.

Now, he had a chance to at least get some closure with the Slayer who'd saved his life again and again. He wasn't about to screw it up.

So he sat back in the chair, and began to tell her about those annoying soddin' dreams.


	4. Deterioration

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews and favorites. DISCLAIMER: Own nothing except for the occasional original character.**

* * *

Buffy's mind was reeling.

She and Spike had talked about his unusual nightmare (a "brigade of beasties" as he so referred to it), and how it so happened to mirror her reoccuring dreams. And if anything, they'd reached a consensus on one particular fact: this certainly could not have been coincidence.

Something bad really _was_ coming.

Plus, there was the complete shock of seeing Spike, after all this time. He'd come because he thought she was in trouble. Even now, he cared about her. They talked for what seemed like hours, about all they'd missed in each other's lives. As it turned out, Spike had been through another apocalypse or two-with Angel's crew. They'd worked their way through changing Wolfram & Hart from the inside, and, well, they'd mostly failed. Only recently had they gotten back on their feet again.

Buffy told him about everything that had happened at Slayer Central thus far, wondering how different it might have been if she had truly known he was alive, and not dismissed it as a rumor or a lie. She wasn't sure how to feel about his return, his stroll back into her life. Maybe, Buffy thought, it was just best to avoid the subject altogether.

She closed her eyes, and the last image in her mind before she fell asleep was that look of concern in his gaze.

* * *

Xander Harris took a big breath, cupped his hands around his mouth, and cried out as loudly as he could: "GIRLS! Let's go! Training starts in ten!"

He liked using his authority voice.

Since Xander could remember, he'd been working by Buffy's side against the big bad evil (he had an eyepatch for his, well, lack of eye to prove it). But he especially liked being one of the Big Bosses at Scotland Slayer Central. Here, powerful fighters of darkness from all around the world-girls ranging in age and background but united as a team-came to learn, to grow as heroines, and to, y'know, help Buffy stop the end of the world a few times over.

Of course, it had its not-so-great moments. Like the fact that Spike had decided to make an appearance. Xander sighed at the thought. He and Spike had never gotten along very well, probably because Spike was a pompous blood-sucking fiend who'd driven him and his friends crazy on multiple occasions. Oh, well, Xander thought, maybe surviving a few more apocalypses has changed him...or not.

It was then, coming out of his own thoughts that Xander realized none of the Slayers were emerging from their rooms. At first it didn't seem so unusual: you have a fortress full of girls (most of them teenagers) early on a Sunday morning, you're bound to get a slow start.  
However, this didn't stop Xander from raising an eyebrow in curiosity. Something didn't seem right.

He hesitantly made his way to the first room on the right in the hallway-Alicia and Emily bunked there. There were usually two or three girls residing in a room, and whenever one Slayer had been trained enough to go out on her own, another new one took her place. Emily was fairly new herself.

He knocked on the door. "Alicia? You in there? Are you guys pulling a prank again like the one on April Fools'? 'Cause, ya know. Not so funny for the person getting spooked, which was me." Oh, yes, they were mostly teenaged girls. And they loved to tease Xander as much as possible.

But when he heard not a single reply once again, Xander entered full investigative mode, and kicked open the locked door.

"Oh, my God."

It was the strangest thing he had ever seen.

Alicia and Emily were suspended in mid-air, seemingly in a trance. Their muscles were completely rigid, eyes transfixed on something beyond the window out of which they were gazing.  
Horrified, Xander took a few steps back, then stumbled to open the door across from Alicia's. Sure enough, Rebecca and Jamie were hovering over Xander in chilling silence.

With a gulp, Xander shakily made his way down the hallway to find that every room looked exactly the same: the girls hovered to the ceiling, gazing out the windows beside their beds.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Xander did the only thing he could do at this point: he ran to get Buffy.

* * *

When Spike finally found his way to the main area of the castle, he let out a breath of relief. He didn't want to admit that he couldn't really find his way around just yet, so he puffed up his chest and moved with a casual stroll toward the group gathered on various couches and chairs.

That morning, Willow had been the one to knock on the guest room door and wake him. And she did what Spike figured he'd have to get used to from everyone: look him up and down in shock for a moment, stammer a few words, and walk away.

Being dead to someone one moment and then not dead the next was hard, Spike had come to realize. _And we all wondered why Buffy had such a bloody tough time . . . _

He sat down on the arm of the couch where Buffy was sitting, beside Dawn and Willow. He tried to make eye contact with Buffy, but as it seemed she was fond of doing nowadays, she looked away.

Xander was pacing back and forth in front of them. "I . . . I'm at a complete loss, here. I am in Lostville, the capital of Confused Land."

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "You're not the only one. Willow? What did Giles say on the phone?"

Willow stared down at her fingers, wringing her hands as she replied, "He and Andrew have the same problem. It's spread. It's a curse of some kind, I can feel it."

"Well, that's great," Buffy snapped, standing, "But we don't know what kind of curse it is, or how strong , or if it's permanent. This is serious. We're losing power, here, and that's exactly what the thing that's coming wants to happen; I know it."

"How?" Dawn asked nervously, "How can you possibly know what our next Big Bad Evil wants from us?"

"Because I felt it," Buffy said quietly, looking at Willow. "In those dreams I've been having."

"Me, too," Spike blurted, because he couldn't bear being still and useless any longer. Everyone turned to look at him, and he wasn't about to be made a fool. "In case Buffy failed to mention this to you lot," he continued, glaring at her, "the reason I showed up here in the first place is because I've been having the same dreams Buffy's been having."

"I told them, Spike," Buffy said quickly, and he heard anger in her voice again. _Great. Just bloody great._

Buffy went on, this time to Willow: "Have you called Kennedy? Is she alright?"

Willow nodded. "She, Satsu and some of the others who went on that Ngyya demon mission weren't affected at all. They weren't home . . . " she trailed off.

"Right place, right time," Spike summarized, mostly for his own benefit. He didn't really know how things worked at Slayer Central quite yet, but he assumed from what he'd overheard in the last day that Slayers were split up into teams and went on missions in groups.

Buffy sighed, running a hand through her hair. Spike couldn't help but notice its golden tone hadn't faded a bit, and remembered how he used to brush his own hands through it-

"Xander, just . . . watch the girls, okay? Willow, Dawn and I will do some research."

Oh, no siree. Spike would have none of this. He marched over to her as everyone started to disperse. "Uh, Buffy? Standin' right here. Can be of use."

She turned to him, her eyes flickering. "I'll tell you when I need you. Just stay put for now."

"Bollocks, Buffy; you can't just-"

But she did. She turned and walked away from him.

And more visions of Angel's pointing fingers and I-told-you-so's danced in Spike's head.

* * *

"Master, everything is going according to plan," growled a Qyxx demon in the darkness of the night forest.

Maximus grinned, his teeth shining in the moonlight. "Perfect."

"Although, sir . . . I should tell you . . . " The big, muscular Qyxx demon was trembling slightly in fear-which certainly said something-as it spoke. "Our fellow worshiper, the Ngyya demon, Pheo . . . He has been murdered."

"I know," Maximus sighed, and the Qyxx demon's body relaxed in relief, "Slayers again. Don't you see? Their power will soon be ours. They will never be able to destroy your kind, or anyone, again. Rather, it'll be quite the opposite."

"Opposite, sir?"

"Oh, yes." Maximus rose from the dirt ground, the moon illuminating his shadow. "One by one, we will destroy them."


	5. Diffluent

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Another reminder that this is an AU "Season 8" of BtVS so it doesn't really adhere to the comics aside from setting. XD DISCLAIMER: Own nothing except OCs!**

* * *

"Buffy, you're being a total idiot right now."

Buffy's head snapped up to face her sister Dawn, who stood in the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

Buffy leaned back against her desk chair. "What? Did I leave an empty milk carton in the fridge again?" she replied absently.

Dawn rolled her eyes, moving over to sit in a chair across from her sister. "I'm serious, Buffy. A lot of stuff is going on right now, more than we've faced in a while. If anything, you're really going to need-"

"Spike?" Buffy interjected harshly, "I'm going to need Spike; is that what you're saying? You don't know that."

"I was gonna say, _support_," said Dawn calmly, "Back-up. Which Spike can provide. He's sitting in his guest room staring out the window, watching Kennedy's group doing night training sessions. It's sad."

Buffy closed her eyes, leaning forward on her desk to rub her temples. "I know, Dawn. I just . . . I can't deal with him right now."

"But he knows what's going on! It's the reason he showed up-"

"If I conveniently recall," Buffy once again interrupted, "You were the one who wasn't willing to accept that he was good. Restored. When he got his soul back in Sunnydale."

"That was a long time ago, Buffy," Dawn said, "I saw the good in him the moment I saw him on the doorstep two nights ago. He still cares after all this time! Isn't that worth something?"

Buffy bit her lip, and then Dawn spoke again, her voice softer: "You keep saying that he needs to move on; that this isn't Sunnydale anymore. Well . . . " Dawn got up and headed back toward the door. "Maybe you need to move on, too, Buffy."

Buffy knew, as she watched her sister leave, that she was entirely right. Moving on didn't sound so bad at all.

* * *

Gulping an iced water obnoxiously, Andrew Wells, who had just arrived with Mr. Rupert Giles via helicopter, glanced back and forth between Buffy and Giles, who were currently having a fast-paced, nervous discussion about what was going on with the Slayers.

"Buffy, I honestly haven't a clue where to begin. If you're telling me that Willow's already looked through every book of curses she owns, I'm not sure what we-"

"We have to keep looking," Buffy cut in, "Giles, we have to. Have you seen them? Have you looked at those girls?"

"Yes, I have. We found our girls in the same state you found yours. Silent, unmoving, transfixed on something that we can't pinpoint," Giles said, removing his glasses to rub his eyes wearily, "Which is why we brought them here. So all of them could be together at once while we keep a close eye."

"Do you know how hard it would've been to get a bunch of floaty Slayers through security? Thank goodliness we have teleportation spells!" Andrew quipped.

Buffy and Giles both glared at him, which prompted Andrew to sink lower into the chair he sat in. "Sorry. My brain's still all fuzzy from the helicopter."

Giles sighed, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "Faith is aware of what's going on; I've contacted her. She's currently on a mission in Munich." He sighed. "I also understand that, erm, Spike has returned."

Andrew saw Buffy's expression falter slightly. "Uh . . . yeah. He's upstairs. I was planning on talking to him a little while ago but then Xander told me you guys had arrived-"

"Did you tell him I didn't say a word?" Andrew cried nervously, "I swear I didn't tell you about his being all alive again!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "He knows. I found out on my own, Andrew. For all his not wanting me to know, he made it kind of obvious."

Andrew didn't like Buffy's attitude. Something was off. Back in Sunnydale, Buffy had clearly respected, maybe even loved Spike; at least that was what it had seemed to Andrew.

So he pressed: "Uh . . . is he just, like, upstairs? Doing nothing?"

Buffy turned to Giles. "Have you learned in training him to be a Watcher how to shut him up?"

"Not quite yet," replied Giles with a hint of resentment.

"No, I'm serious," Andrew whined, standing up to face Buffy despite the height difference, "He's probably feeling, like, totally trapped. The tortured vampire with a soul seeks purpose in Scotland . . . " To Andrew, it sounded like a great idea for a documentary.

Buffy ran a hand through her hair in exasperation. "Spike is fine. I mean, I think he's fine . . . "

This time, Giles looked up. "You haven't been, well, communicating with him at all?"

Uh-oh. Buffy ducked her head. "I have . . . just, uh, on the sparse side."

"I myself am not the _biggest_ fan of Spike, but I reckon he could be of some help, Buffy," Giles mused. Noticing her expression, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "I understand Spike represents a lot of the past for you, Buffy. For all of us, even. But maybe it would be beneficial for you to-"

"Move on. Yeah. I know." Buffy sighed again, placed her hands on her hips, and nodded firmly. "Okay. I'm not sure if Dawn has caught him up with what's going on, but maybe I should go up there and, uh . . . do that. You guys can stay in your usual guest rooms; they're always open."

"Tell him I said hi!" Andrew piped. Yes, he understood quite well, now. There was that tension again; the very same that had always been associated with Buffy and Spike's rocky relationship.

"Andrew? Would you care to quit doddling and help me unpack, please?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Giles." Andrew got up, his muse still roaming free. The relationship had taken a slightly different turn, since Buffy and Spike hadn't seen each other for quite some time.

But were old feelings coming back to the surface? Ooh. Andrew couldn't wait to see how this would unfold.

* * *

"Spike?" Buffy hesitantly peeked through the doorway to find Spike still facing the window. It was odd, considering Kennedy and the others had finished training a while ago. Vampires and their creepy habits, she thought. Angel was just the same.

She sighed, taking a few steps toward him. "Okay, Spike, listen. If we're going to work together in this, which we are because I . . . ugh." She closed her eyes. "Because I do appreciate your coming to help. I do, all right?"

He said nothing, which usually meant he was scheming to bust out with some crazy argument that Buffy would have to rebuke. She knew him by now. So she went on: "Like I said, if we're going to work together, we need to get over whatever it is that's . . . We should move on. Start over. Hi, I'm Buffy, your friendly neighborhood Slayer." She tried to keep the situation light.

"And then you say . . . ?" Buffy prompted, waiting for his response.

Sure enough, Spike turned around, and let out a blood-curdling yell.

Buffy's eyes widened. "Uh . . . not exactly the witty reply I was looking for."

Spike fell to his knees, and even after all this time Buffy hated to see him in pain. She knelt down in front of him, a bit panicked. "Spike? Spike, what's going on?"

He cried out again, breathing heavily, before his body relaxed and he fell completely to the floor.

Buffy hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder. He was moving; still conscious. Always a good thing. "Spike?" she said again.

He sat up abruptly, his eyes darting back and forth, before meeting hers. Those blue eyes . . .

"Okay, Spike, you're starting to freak me out-"

"Shh!" he commanded, holding up a finger. Raising an eyebrow, Buffy obliged, falling silent.

Then: "Oh . . . oh, bloody hell. Bollocks. This isn't happening," Spike muttered under his breath, leaning against the wall.

"What isn't happening?" Buffy asked, "Hello; Slayer in the dark here!"

Spike reached out, shaking slightly, and took her hand. Buffy quickly tensed up at his touch, until she realized that his hand seemed unnaturally . . . warm.

Slowly, Spike brought her hand to his chest, a look of utter shock on his face.

And Buffy gasped as she realized with a sudden clarity, that his heart was beating.


	6. Digesting

**A/N: Enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

Spike wasn't sure how long they sat there, the two of them. Just taking in everything that had just happened. Spike needed to breathe, for the first time in a century. He _needed_ to . . . he was trying to hide his shock as best he could.

Everything looked, smelled, _felt_ different. He could hear his own heartbeat pumping in his ears, which was a sound he hadn't listened to in over a century.

Finally, it was Buffy who spoke: "Are . . . are you okay?"

He took in a deep breath, remembering that using the respiratory system was no longer optional, and replied, "Uh, I think so. Yeah."

"How do you feel?" This was the most attention she'd given him in the last three days, ironically enough.

"I feel . . . wonky." It was the only word he could come up with, and he saw Buffy smile a little.

"'Wonky' sounds about right," she said softly, "considering you're . . . human. I think."

The word sounded so foreign to him, now that it could be very well used to describe himself.

"We should get downstairs. Tell the others about this. Can you stand?"

_I'm human, not incompetent_, Spike thought resentfully. And in one swift motion, he stood.

Bad idea. Head-rush. "Damn." He leaned against the wall once again, closing his eyes. "Why is it that bloody ridiculous things always happen to me when I'm around you?" He was only half-joking, and he could tell Buffy knew this.

She answered with another question: "How do you think this could've happened?"

Spike wasn't sure. He wondered if this had ever happened to anyone else before . . . and then he had the thought: _The prophecy. That sodding prophecy Angel signed away before the first apocalypse in LA. The Shanshu!_

He saw that Buffy had picked up on his expression of realization, and finally he spoke: "In m'bag over there . . . cell phone. Can you grab it for me?"

"Who do you need to call?" she asked, making her way over to his luggage.

Spike sighed. "Might as well be honest. Gotta talk to our very own Great Poof."

Buffy raised her eyebrows. Had she missed the reference? All the more reason to recite some of his nicknames for the guy: "Y'know; Tall, Dark and Broody? Mr. Hair Gel? The Great Big-"

"Angel. I got it the first time," she interrupted. _Oh. Oops._ "Why do you need to talk to him?"

"It's a whole . . . prophecy thing." Looking at her once again, Spike noticed how truly worried Buffy was. He wondered briefly if he should be more worried, himself.

He felt dizzy and confused and bloody hell, he had a heartbeat. But he figured it was best to take things one step at a time.

"Right," he said, flipping the cell phone open, "Buffy . . . you've got a hell of a lot more to worry about than me right now. S'probably best that you stay downstairs with the Scoobies and whatnot."

"Spike, your heart is beating. This is serious, and maybe it's connected to what's going on with the girls. I don't want to leave you like this."

Spike chuckled bitterly. It was all too ironic, really. He'd come here to help Buffy and she'd ignored him, until this moment, in which he felt pretty damn useless. "What? I had to regain a heartbeat and get all weepy to get you to cast me a soddin' glance? Gee. I wonder what dying again would've gotten me." The words practically charged out of him before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted saying them.

The look of hurt on Buffy's face was almost more than he could bear. "Fine," she said quietly, clenching her fists, "I'll be downstairs. Stay here, or don't. Do what you want."

She was gone before he could even think of saying anything else.

"Bugger." Spike sat down on the bed, staring down at his hands. His not-as-pale-as-usual hands. He felt hot all over, probably because his body temperature wasn't exactly in the 60-degree range anymore.

He needed to talk to Angel.

* * *

  
"Spike's _what_?" Xander sputtered.

He watched in awe as Buffy paced back and forth in front of her friends. "He's human. I mean, I think he is. He has a heartbeat. He's all . . . "

"Warm and fuzzy?" Dawn finished.

Buffy nodded. Xander cast a sideways glance in Dawn's direction, and she shrugged.

"I don't understand," Giles said, "It's not possible, to my knowledge. Where is he?"

"Yeah," Andrew piped, "I wanna see Spike all human and whatnot!"

"He doesn't look any different," Buffy snapped in Andrew's direction. Xander could tell from Buffy's current demeanor, having known her for so long, that she was very apprehensive. And with good reason. A lot of odd things were happening lately, seemingly all at once.

He listened as Buffy went on: "He's upstairs. Phoning Angel, actually. I guess Angel might have some information about this. They're talking it out, vampire to, uh, no-longer-a-vampire."

"You didn't ask him more about it?" Willow asked.

Buffy stared down at her shoes. "Our conversations lately haven't exactly been a show of our long-time camaraderie. He's being stubborn."

"Right," Dawn muttered, giving Buffy a significant look, "_He_ is."

Xander decided it would be a good time to check on the Slayers, as the death-glares going on between the two Summers sisters was something he wanted to stay away from.

"I'm gonna check on the girls," he said.

"Please do see if there's been any change," responded Giles hopefully.

Xander nodded, and headed up to the girls' rooms. What he saw, in the night-barely-turned-daylight streaming in, were shadows of silent bodies, floating and nothing more, the whites of eyes transfixed on nothingness beyond the castle's walls.

"No," he whispered, "no change."

* * *

  
"Spike? Where are you calling from?"

"Where I said I'd be a few days ago, you nit."

"Lovely. Great. Are you coming back anytime soon? Because Illyria's getting antsy taking on your assignments without you actually being there, and is this gonna cost me long-distance money?" Spike rolled his eyes and listened to Angel's voice fade slightly as he yelled away from the phone: "'Connor! Is this gonna cost me money?' 'No, Dad. Chill out.' 'Good.' "

There was some shuffling. "Okay, Captain Peroxide. What do you want?"

"That's a loaded question," Spike said honestly.

"Give me a Cliffnotes answer and we'll be on our way-"

"I think I'm human, now. Something turned me human. Happened a few minutes ago."

There was silence on the other line for a few seconds, until Spike broke it with: "Oi. You still there?"

"Yes, I'm still here. Are . . . are you sure?"

"Pretty damn sure. Heartbeat. All warm-skinned and whatnot. Feel different."

"Have you tried, y'know, seeing if your vampire side is still in-tact?"

Spike blinked. It wasn't a bad idea. He took a deep breath, concentrated really hard, and let that immeasurable feeling come over him in which he just knew he'd be all fangs-and-bumpies in a matter of seconds, ready for the fight, the dark side taking over-

Nothing. Nada.

Spike sniffed casually. "Uh. Yeah. Tried that."

"Okay, well, is there a mirror nearby?"

Spike was almost angry with himself for not thinking of these things, but he distinctly remembered a mirror in the hallway, so he went out to look at it.

And saw his reflection in the mirror, for the first time in ages. "Oh, bloody _hell_," he muttered.

"What?" Angel asked, "Saw your reflection, huh? Regretting various style choices?"

"Shove it, you ponce. Called you for some soddin' advice. Did I get Shanshu'd?"

Another beat of silence, then: "The Shanshu isn't in existence anymore. You know that."

"Then what the buggerin' hell is going on with me?" Spike cried, beginning to circle the room in frustration, "There's a bunch of wonky stuff goin' on here as it is-"

"I heard about the Slayers getting paralyzed. Is it true?" Angel asked, sounding interested for the first time in the conversation.

"Yeah."

"And Buffy? How's she dealing with all this?"

Spike sighed again. "Don't bloody well know. She barely talks to me. And now that I'm with the humanity and whatnot, things are bound to get worse."

"That they are," Angel said quietly, and Spike raised an eyebrow.

"You're actin' like you've been through this before," he said, suspicion etched in his tone.

There was yet another elongated pause on the other line before Angel spoke again, saying, "That's probably because I have."

Spike stopped in mid-pace. "You _what_?"


	7. Daylight

**A/N: Okay, so if you haven't seen Angel, this might be a little on the spoilery side. I tried to explain the episode "I Will Remember You" as best I could here, because I figured tying it in would be a nice twist.  
Another reminder: I'll be making references to bits and pieces of BtVS S8 and Angel ATF, but a lot of the current stuff that's being released now isn't part of this reality, hence the slight AUness of this story. XD Enjoy. Disclaimer: Mutant Enemy owns Buffy and Angel, end of story.**

* * *

Angel sat in his office chair, clutching the phone in his hand intensely.

"Alright, listen," he muttered to Spike on the other line, "You can't tell anyone about this. Not even Buffy. Especially not Buffy. You hear?"

"Fine," was Spike's impatient albeit slightly intrigued voice, "Go."

Angel took a deep breath, unsure of how to begin. Years ago, through the blood of a demon, he'd had the opportunity to become human again. And Buffy had been one of the people to witness his transformation, when she'd visited in LA. It seemed so long ago, now.

It was a day he'd never forget, being with her. Loving her like he'd always wanted to as a vampire, but couldn't because of the curse that turned him into pure evil whenever he experienced true happiness.

But he'd realized that being human also meant being weak, and he had to sacrifice his humanity to have the ability to keep LA-and by extent, Buffy, safe. To protect them all.

The Powers had been only partly merciful, and wiped Buffy's memory of the perfect day-but not Angel's.

He told Spike all this with hesitance, as memories he had buried away were being forced to the surface. When he finished, there was silence on the line, until he heard Spike let out a low whistle.

"Damn, Poof. No wonder you're so cranky all the time."

Angel gritted his teeth. "Is that all you have to say? Real mature."

"It's tragic and all, but what's it got to do with me? No demon blood entered my veins. No idea how this was caused-"

"And you have no idea how long it will last, or if it will hurt you more than help you," Angel finished, " Find a way to reverse it-"

"Reverse it? Why? I mean, being a vampire's bloody fantastic and all. I never wanted to...to change it..." He spoke slowly, thoughtfully. "But I-I can see the sun coming up. Hell, I can see the sun, I could go outside and feel it if I wanted to, without burning to a soddin' crisp-"

"You asked me for advice, Spike, and I'm giving it to you: Be careful. This isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Spike was about to retort with something witty when he saw Buffy standing in the doorway. "I . . . I gotta go."

"Spike, don't do anything stup-"

Angel was left to the dial tone within seconds.

* * *

"The vampire is done with," Maximus said to his minions, "He will soon realize what he is up against. As will the leading Slayer. The most powerful."

"Master," said one of the demons gazing up at Maximus from a few feet below, "How long must we wait before the Slayers' energy can be taken for our own?"

"Patience," retorted Maximus, "Patience is a virtue. We are narrowing down the assets of the Slayers, one by one, until are none left. That is when we will rise."

"What if the Slayers discover us?" asked another demon.

"By then," Maximus said decidedly, "it will be too late. My magic is too strong for them to fathom. And soon, with added power, I will be able to take away life as quickly as I am able to alter it."

The demons cackled wildly, and Maximus grinned. "Patience . . . "

* * *

Buffy was done playing games. She'd marched back up to Spike's room to find that he was still on the phone, but he hung up as soon as she'd arrived. They needed to have a talk. Finally.

"Okay," Buffy muttered, "I don't know what any of this is. I don't know how to feel about it. All I know is, you're an idiot."

Spike raised his eyebrows. "Oh, so that's it? Calling me names, now? I thought we moved past-"

"And I'm an idiot," she finished. She watched as Spike's expression softened, signaling her to go on. "Spike, when you showed up here a part of me refused to believe you were really here. I didn't want to believe it."

Spike stared down at the floor, and said in a barely-audible voice, "Why?"

"Because I missed you," she blurted, feeling hot tears burn behind her eyes, "I moved on. You moved on. But seeing you made me realize that in the back of my mind, I've been missing you since I watched you burn in Sunnydale. Burn for me, and for the world."

"Wasn't all that heroic," he mumbled, flopping down onto the bed in defeat.

"See? This is you being an idiot, in case you didn't know," she replied in exasperation. She sighed, sitting down beside him. "Just because I moved on, doesn't mean I haven't stopped caring about you."

Spike looked at her, and it was always those eyes that made her want to melt. "I haven't, either," he said, "Not by a long bloody shot."

She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Now they were finally getting somewhere. "Everyone downstairs cares about you, too-"

"Bugger that."

"They do. We all want to help. We'll figure this out."

She watched Spike's expression change to what seemed to be a number of different emotions. He was clearly conflicted. Was it strange that she felt she could read him better now that he was human? "Things are gonna get crazy. I'm not gonna be able to protect anyone, am I? You, or anyone? My being human is gonna make things worse-"

"Hey, now," Buffy interrupted, "Inhibitions, much? You weren't thinking about all this earlier. Who ever said you can't work through this as strong as you've always been? God knows you're stubborn enough for it." She was only half-joking as she added the last bit.

"I-no one," he said quickly, his voice suddenly odd, "No one." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I dunno how long this'll last, and I . . . " Buffy watched skeptically as he stood up. "I figure I might as well make the best of it."

She blinked stupidly. "What?"

He took her hand, and Buffy looked up at him in confusion.

Then he spoke: "I want you to come with me."

"Where?"

"To watch the sun rise."

* * *

Sunlight.

The one thing Spike regretted now was that he couldn't hear Buffy's heartbeat as well as he used to. Now, as she stood with him outside the castle as the sun crept over the horizon, he expected his super-vampire-hearing to kick in, attuning his ears to the familiar thumping of her heart.

It didn't. Man, he'd have to get used to this.

Spike looked toward the ground, finding that he could see his shadow now, surrounded by sunlight. "Bloody hell," he whispered.

Buffy looked at him; he felt her gaze and found her eyes. They were soft. "It's pretty, huh?"

"A sight not meant for vampire eyes," he muttered, "I guess I'm a lucky sod."

He stared out into the sky again, watching yellowish clouds come into view. And then, he felt warmth against his skin as Buffy placed her hand in his.

"We're gonna try to figure out what this is," she said, and he looked at her again. "But until then, you might as well, y'know, enjoy it. Right?"

They stood there for awhile, just looking. Just living. Two hearts beating instead of one.

He'd never stopped loving her, no matter how hard he'd tried. He wondered briefly, with her hand in his, if she had ever felt the same way somewhere along the line.

"I . . . I want to know more about you. What I've missed since . . . since the last time I saw you," he said quietly. "It's been a long bloody while."

Buffy nodded. "Me, too. I mean, you told me all about Wolfram and Hart, but . . . what is it really like? Working with Angel?"

"Annoying as hell."

She rolled her eyes. "You two will never get along, will you?"

"Not as long as sky is blue and the grass is green, pet."

Buffy sighed. "Well, Dawn turned into a giant. Did I mention that?"

Spike fully faced her now. "What?"

"Long story. She . . . hasn't changed much when it comes to getting our attention by causing a mystical ruckus."

"I died and got to relive an apocalypse," Spike challenged with a devilish smirk, "Do I have you beat?"

Buffy laughed. "Maybe. I'll let you win this once."

They talked for some time, updating one another with the details they'd failed to mention on that fated night Spike had first walked into Slayer Central. In the sun, Buffy looked even more beautiful than usual. Its rays seemed to accentuate her already bright features. Her golden hair, perfect skin. He was entranced.

"Spike? What are you looking at?"

He grinned sheepishly. "What else would I be lookin' at?" He squeezed her hand. "You."

All of this was so strange. But Spike's last thought as he let sleep take over a little while later, was that Buffy was damn right. Who knew how long he'd be stuck like this? And for what reason? He figured he might as well make the best of it: He was going to enjoy this; this humanity, as best he could._  
_


	8. Determination

**A/N: Enjoy this one. DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything except the occasional OC.**

* * *

"Willow, what are you doing?"

Willow Rosenberg looked up, her focus broken by Dawn, who had walked into the command center to find her sitting there, cross-legged on the floor.

The command center at Scotland Slayer Central was usually a busy place. Xander or Buffy were typically seen running around, taking official business calls or holding meetings or recruiting Slayers. But in the early hours of the morning, everyone was fast asleep.

Except for Willow, of course. She'd gone through spellbook after spellbook, trying to figure out what was happening with the Slayers-and more recently, Spike.

But now, she had a plan.

"Hey, Dawn," she said, stretching a little, "I was just . . . getting all meditate-y. Gonna try to do a spell, soon."

"Oops!" Dawn backed away, "Sorry. But I gotta ask; what kind?"

Willow leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes. "The intense kind. Hoping I won't get too carried away, or anything. But I have a feeling it might help. It's a locator spell."

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "What're you trying to locate?"

"I talked it over with Giles, and we both came to the same conclusion," Willow explained, standing up and brushing off her jeans, "Someone or something with enormous power is doing what it's doing to the Slayers. And possibly Spike, if we can make that connection."

Dawn nodded as Willow went on: "So, after much research and much caffeine, I found a spell that would locate wherever there's a huge power source in the general area."

"That's so cool," Dawn said, her eyes widening.

Willow shrugged. "I don't know if it'll work, but I'm gonna try. What are you doing up so early? Not as if the Slayers training would wake you . . . "

She said the last part with a twinge of sadness. Andrew and Giles were staying upstairs with the all-but-conscious Slayers for the time being, and for days there had been nothing new to report on their condition.

Dawn smirked. "Heard rummaging in the kitchen that woke me up. That's actually why I came in here. I'm pretty much gathering everyone in there to watch the show!"

"The show?" Willow asked, confused.

"Oh, yeah," Dawn said, beckoning Willow to follow her, "Spike just discovered the necessity of food to human beings."

Willow broke into a smile. "Uh-oh."

-

"This . . . this fruit smoothie. I don't bloody understand it."

Buffy fought the urge to laugh as Spike gulped down a glass of a smoothie she'd just made. "It's fruit. And ice. In a refreshingly colorful cup. What's your deal?" she asked, amused.

"How . . . how do they all mix like that?" Spike answered her question with another, staring, transfixed, at the glass in his hand. "The flavors?"

Buffy smirked again and looked around. Dawn was standing near the counter with a hand over her mouth, giggling. Xander had just walked in, taken one look at Spike with a shake of his head and gone to fetch some cereal. Willow and eventually Giles had entered the kitchen, perplexed.

And Spike was oblivious to it all because of one fruit smoothie.

In all honesty, this was the most fun Buffy had experienced in a very long time. She remembered what actual laughter felt like, what it meant to smile. It was a nice change.

Once he'd finished the last drop, Spike looked up. "What? What're you lot starin' at?"

"He should've been human when we had a Ben and Jerry's in Sunnydale," Dawn said flatly.

"Was that a banana-strawberry smoothie?" Xander inquired, "If so, way to hog the sweet-yet-tangy goodness, Spike."

"Make your own, mate. I feel like there's a bloody hole in my stomach."

"That's called human hunger," Giles said with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah, well, vampire hunger's different. S'a lot more urgent. But with this . . . it's easier to feel all empty in the pit of m'stomach." And with that, Spike got up and wandered to a random cupboard, grabbing a can of cashews.

Buffy sighed mock-dramatically. "Geez, Spike. You're wiping me out of my food supply, here."

Spike turned to face her. "What can I say? With a heartbeat comes various human cravings, I suppose." A pause, as he stared into the can incredulously, "Are these chocolate-covered?"

Buffy laughed again. In the back of her mind, though, she couldn't help but feel that this all seemed vaguely familiar.

Just then, Andrew shuffled into the room, yawning. "Hey, um, Buffy? I think there's people at the door, or something. There's a big hooded blob outside."

"A what, now?" Buffy asked, standing up and moving away from the kitchen table, "Is it trying to break in?"

Suddenly, everyone jumped as whoever was outside rapped the loud knocker outside the door three times. Buffy exchanged an apprehensive glance with Willow, and walked toward the door, slowly. She could feel everyone inching behind her.

"Be careful, Buffy!" Dawn whispered.

Buffy tentatively grabbed a sword hanging on a nearby wall before slowly opening the door.

The big black blob raised its hunched position, and instantly, Buffy lowered her sword.

Under black leather that was currently catching fire, Angel the vampire said, "Uh, Buffy? Hi. Now would be a great time to invite me in."

* * *

"Angel?" Buffy stuttered. She felt her heartbeat putter a bit-it always did when he was around. "Come on in." She quickly stepped aside to let him in, and realized there were more people behind him. A woman with shockingly blue hair and a skin-tight body suit was glaring at her quizzically, and an African American man had his hands stuffed in his pockets as he headed through the door, giving her an awkward but seemingly friendly smile.

"Didn't know if I needed an invite," Angel continued, brushing the ash off his shoulders casually, "Considering this is a public fortress."

"It was," said Xander who had moved to stand next to Buffy, "Now it's our home." He sounded a bit defensive-Buffy figured he was none too thrilled that two of her past lovers were officially in the house.

"Oh, bugger," she heard Spike say behind her, "What are you doing he-" he stopped in mid-speech, and Buffy saw that the blue woman was glaring at him.

"Illyria," Spike said.

The woman, called Illyria (who Buffy recalled Spike mentioning briefly during their long talk in the sun), sniffed. "It is true. His heart does beat."

_Okay_, Buffy thought, _I guess vampires aren't the only ones with a creepily acute sense of smell._

"Hello to you, too," Spike mumbled.

"My God," said Giles, and Buffy whipped around to face his bewildered expression. "You're one of the Old Ones."

"The who, now?" quipped Willow.

Buffy ran a hand through her hair. It was getting too crowded in here.

"The Old Ones," Giles repeated, "who roamed the earth as demons, ages ago. Before the world empires were formed, before . . . anything, really. You were very powerful."

Illyria squinted at Giles. "You are more knowledgeable than the likes of these others."

The African American man rolled his eyes, and mumbled, "Thanks. Feelin' the love, here."

Angel cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. This is Illyria, and uh, this here is Charles Gunn," he said, gesturing to his two companions.

Buffy nodded, unsure of what to do about all the new arrivals at her house over the last week. "Uh, Dawn? Could you maybe get some refreshments? Show, um, Charles and Illyria to the kitchen?"

Dawn nodded in understanding, and Buffy turned back to Angel, placing her hands on her hips in spite of herself. "What are you doing here, Angel?"

He sighed. "We have some information," he said, "And we might be able to help you."


	9. Depth

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews so far! A few short chapters ahead followed by a BUNCH of long ones. Enjoy. DISCLAIMER: Don't own BtVS. Entertainment purposes only, etc.**

* * *

"The tall brunette handed me a glass of water. She is overly polite."

Spike rolled his eyes at Illyria, who stood with him near the entrance of Slayer Central where everyone had dispersed a few minutes prior. "As we speak, the one you call Angel is discussing our research with the short blonde one," Illyria continued.

Spike could see her watching him as he paced back and forth near the door while Buffy and Angel talked in her office.

"Don't bloody well understand why the have to be all private about it. This is about me, too," he muttered. "And her name is Buffy."

"Regardless, the lives of the Slayers are of much higher value," was Illyria's reply.

"Not really helping, Blue," Spike snapped, "I don't know what's goin' on with me, or how to fix it, and all Buffy's got is a handful of Slayers 'cause the rest got cursed and whatnot. They could die. I could die."

Illyria cocked her head to the side. "You have died many times over."

"Well, yeah, Illyria. I know by now that I don't want to do it again!" he cried, slamming his fist against the wall. He immediately regretted doing so, of course. ". . . Ow."

"Your yelling is moot and annoying, and will only cause me to throw you against the wall, or something of that nature, to quiet you. I pity your inability to defend yourself," Illyria said curtly.

"Inability? Oh, I'll show you inability . . . " Spike clenched his fists and was about to strike at Illyria when, before he knew it, he was being thrown in the opposite direction, landing loudly with an _oomph_ on the floor.

"Bollocks!" he shouted, rubbing his sore back. Being human definitely had its limitations.

"You can't say that I did not warn you, Spike," Illyria said.

"You . . . crazy . . . bint," he replied in between catching his breath.

* * *

"So, I assume Spike caught you up with what's been going on the last . . . " Angel trailed off as he stood awkwardly with Buffy in her office.

"Two years?" Buffy finished.

He nodded, gulping. He'd been on earth for centuries, seen and done everything, and the one person who always made him question his every move, was Buffy.

She went on: "Yes, he has. Looks like you guys have been quite busy."

"Yeah," he replied, "So have you, I guess."

"You could have asked for help," she said quietly.

Angel blinked. " . . . What?"

"Spike told me you guys fought in LA and lost. You all were in a non-stop battle in hell, and I had no clue about it."

"Buffy, it's oka-"

"I know you're here to talk about what's going on now," she continued, and Angel clamped his mouth shut, "But I haven't seen you in a very long time, Angel. And I don't feel that we had any closure. Andrew told me you and Spike were snooping around in Rome looking for me beforehand, and that just made me angry." Her eyes flared as she spoke.

"Yeah, well, with the Immortal-"

"Decoy. She was a decoy, to keep me out of danger. Wasn't me with that Immortal dude. I don't know how many times I have to tell people that."

"I know," Angel interjected, "I know that, now." Silence. "I've missed you, Buffy."

She looked at him, her eyes watering slightly. "Yeah, me too."

More silence.

"God, I've had way too many awkward conversations in this room," Buffy muttered.

Angel had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but he spoke up: "Listen, I didn't want to involve you in all that. It's my city like Sunnydale was yours. But this time, everyone, everywhere is being affected. There were some Slayers working for us in LA that disappeared, and I think you can guess what happened to them."

Buffy sighed. "It's everywhere. It started here, and it keeps moving . . . As far as I know it hasn't touched Faith, or me. And a few girls downstairs escaped it, too. It's some kind of curse thing."

"But you need to be protected, Buffy," Angel said, "It could still be spreading. The reason we're here is because Illyria has some information."

"The scary blue chick?"

Angel smirked. "Yeah. The scary blue chick may have a lead as to what's going on. Gunn came along for muscle. You're not in this alone, okay?"

"What about all the stuff you have to do in LA?" Buffy questioned, and Angel saw the utter stress emanating from her slouched position leaned against her desk.

"I have people taking care of it. My, uh . . . my son, Connor, is helping out as best he can."

He saw Buffy's eyes flicker a bit. "Spike mentioned him. Your son. Is he . . . why did you never . . . "

"It's a long story," Angel interrupted, "I had to let him go. A few times over. But he's here now, and, uh . . . he's holding the fort back in LA."

Buffy nodded, and Angel had a feeling there really wasn't much more to be said about the subject then. "Okay." She took a deep breath. "So, the blue chick. What's she got?"

Angel shrugged. "She told me she recognized the pattern of behavior of what's happening with the Slayers. She's not much of a talker to begin with, so . . . I brought her along before she could protest."

"Spike said she . . . that was a human girl once. Before. Right?"

Angel stared down at his shoes for a moment. "Yeah, she was. And now she's not."

"Funny. The complete opposite happened to Spike the other day."

Angel shook his head. "I don't even want to know what's happening with that issue."

Buffy smiled. "Well, let's go try to figure all this out." She opened the office door, only to find Spike sprawled out on the floor, Illyria standing above him, staring, while Gunn, Dawn, Willow, and Xander watched with wide eyes.

"Spike," Angel muttered, "Why the hell are you on the floor?"

"Oh, come off it, you big sod," Spike retorted, standing up and brushing off his clothes. "Illyria and I were having a bit of a rough and tumble. Y'know. The usual."

"Looks to me like Spike was the only one who got roughed-and-tumbled," Xander snorted.

Spike shot a nasty look at Xander, while Angel said, "Illyria. Could you, uh, tell everyone what you think is going on?"

Illyria looked to Angel. "It will be dangerous to speak of it. He hears and sees everything from miles away."

"He?" said Giles, "Who are you referring to?"

"The warlock Maximus," Illyria replied, "one of the most powerful forces in the universe. He never dies, and his only goal is to become stronger and stronger with each passing century, and I believe he is the cause of this."

Buffy gulped. This didn't sound good, at all.


	10. Demands

Buffy listened apprehensively as Illyria continued speaking, as everyone else began to crowd around her.

"Maximus has thrived off borrowed power since the days I roamed free on this earth in my demon form. He feeds off it. However, once he acquires enough of it, he will have the ability to destroy everything in his path. He takes his energy by choosing powerful victims and placing them in a trance. Your Slayers, whom the red-headed one with the odd diction has described . . . " -Willow raised her eyebrows awkwardly- " . . . are a prime example of what Maximus does to humans. Of course, Slayers would be his ideal choice because they are easy to capture, but are extremely powerful. I have previously witnessed what he is capable of doing when he gathers enough energy. Alone, he is a powerful warlock. But the more power he gains, the more difficult it is to fight against him."

"So, why didn't he try to take my power?" Buffy asked.

"He is vindictive. Maximus chooses who he wants to drain, and who he wants to confront personally. You are a leader of an army. He wants a challenge."

"Oh. He's one of _those_ guys," Xander quipped.

Illyria shot a look at him and Xander bit his lip nervously. "I am not finished. Your attempts to jest at this time would be futile, for this matter concerns the lives of everyone in this vicinity, and they appear to be well aware of it."

"Whoa," Dawn muttered under her breath.

Spike sniffed, leaning over to whisper to her, "That just means she likes him."

"He will try to take you down, piece by piece, by taking away the power of those you lean on most," Illyria finished, "In my day, he destroyed the minions of many Old Ones, including mine, this way."

"So . . . he wants a fight. But he's taking away all my sources," Buffy concluded bitterly, "He's setting us up to lose before we even begin."

"So," said the man called Charles Gunn, "How do we kill this guy?"

"Easy, now, Charlie, boy," Spike muttered, "No need to get yourself killed. Again."

"You must find his whereabouts, "Illyria said, "And you must destroy his army, and his power source."

"Power source?" Giles asked, "I thought the Slayers were his power source."

"That is correct. But he stores the power in a specific spot for easy accessibility; it is portable and goes with Maximus everywhere. It is almost impossible to pinpoint its location, but if one does, the stolen energy will be returned to the Slayers."

"How would we even begin to know where it is?" Buffy asked.

"It is always some kind of inanimate object."

"So you're saying it could be anything from a giant chalice to a wooden spoon?" Andrew asked.

"Yes, annoying one."

"Great. That narrows it down." Buffy sank into the couch, closing her eyes. "Okay. So we find him, fight his army, find his power source. But I don't want this to be a waste of time. Are you sure this is Maxipad's work?"

"Maximus," Illyria corrected as Dawn let out a snort in spite of herself. "And I am almost positive."

Willow spoke up: "The one thing the cursed Slayers have in common is that they're all creepily and perpetually staring out a window. That's how Maximus gets his trance going."

"Window . . . " Buffy muttered. "That sounds familiar."

Suddenly, her eyes widened in recognition, and she whirled around to face Spike, who was leaning against the doorframe. "Spike!"

Spike looked up. "What? I only zoned out for a second, I swear."

"Ugh." She rolled her eyes. "Focus. Remember I came upstairs to see you before you got all human'd up?"

Spike nodded. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"You were staring out the window. It was creepy."

Willow nodded slowly, her eyes brightening with understanding. "Creepy, 'I'm-in-a-trance' kind of staring!"

Spike raised his eyebrows. So, Maximus was definitely the one messing with him and the Slayers? He took a deep breath. _Bloody hell...

* * *

_

"The Old One has pinpointed us," said Maximus, his voice cracking weakly.

"Sir," said a Kraa demon, "We must gather you more power. You are losing strength."

"In time, in time," replied Maximus with a wave of his hand, "My only concern is that there is a powerful witch among them. She may be able to track us. We went on the move to the cluster of Slayers in Los Angeles, but it only brought us closer to being tracked with Illyria's knowledge of my power."

"What shall we do, sir?"

"We shall wait. They are gathering forces together. And so are we."

* * *

Spike leaned over the kitchen faucet, watching the clear water flow into the glass in his outstretched hand. Fascinating. Who knew a few days ago that he'd need a fix of H2O on a daily basis as opposed to refrigerated pig's blood?

It was late; everyone else was asleep. Spike found he was a bit too energized to do so. He figured he was experiencing a classic human sugar high. Oh, well. Those chocolate-covered cashews had been bloody good. He turned off the faucet, about to head back upstairs, when-

"Hey."

He jumped at the voice behind him, and faced the woman who matched it, trying not to look so startled. Nonetheless, Buffy smirked. "Scared ya, huh? Missing your sensitive hearing?"

"Nah, I heard you," he lied, leaning against the counter casually. He took a sip of his water. "So. What are you doing down here? It's past 2 AM."

"Was gonna check on the girls one more time. Heard some rummaging. Thought maybe we had yet another visitor," she replied with a sigh, "This place is turning into Hotel Buffy. We're known for our complimentary breakfasts."

He smiled a little. "Any changes so far? In the Slayers?"

Buffy shook her head. "None. They just . . . stare. It's sad. And scary as hell."

"Wish I could remember more about what happened when that ponce pulled the magicks on me," Spike replied, "Been trying. Just remember lookin' at the mini Slayer lot training and then . . . pain."

"It's okay," Buffy said, "We'll figure it out."

"I could tell you were worried. About this Maximus pissant," Spike said, "And who knew Illyria had all that info stored in that brain of hers? Hell. Would've been nice if she spoke up sooner."

"Angel said this whole thing only started to affect the Slayers in LA a few days ago," Buffy replied, sitting with an _oomph_ at the kitchen table, "I don't think she made the connection until it was happening right in front of her. Makes sense."

"Blue's pretty attentive, though. Surprised it took her so long," was Spike's reply.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "You have a nickname for her, too?"

"Yeah. She hates it," Spike said, smirking playfully.

"Well, it's fitting," Buffy said with a shrug, "if you take in consideration, y'know, her . . . blueness." She stood up once more.

They were silent for a moment, until Spike decided to be the one to make the first move. He recalled that once, a while back, he'd told Buffy that "all they ever did was dance". Even years later, the phrase applied. Granted, it had a bit of a different connotation, now, but still: they were always dancing around the actual issues when it came to their relationship.  
Simply put, Spike didn't want to dance anymore.

He reached out and touched her hand, and then wrapped the other arm around her waist. He whispered her name, leaning forward just so that his lips brushed against her forehead lightly.

She closed her eyes, and he took this as a good sign. As long as she wasn't pushing him away or giving him a good punch in the nose, Spike read essentially _any_ other response as a good sign.

She looked up at him, finally, and her eyes were glossy. "I've never felt this close to you before," she said softly, "Even when we . . . when we were okay, back then, before Sunnydale was destroyed, I think I was afraid."

"Me too," Spike said, and of course it was the truth, however cheesie it sounded. "We shouldn't have to be, Slayer. Not anymore. I soddin' missed you . . . " He ran his fingers up and down her back, and felt her shudder. He figured he might as well be open with her, now.

"You're warm," she replied, "It's so weird."

Leave it to Buffy to ruin the moment. He rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks."

She giggled, and for a while they stood in comfortable quiet, her head against his chest.

Then, she said: "Spike . . . Do you think, maybe . . . you and I . . . "

He kissed her before she could say anything more.


	11. Deception

**A/N: Enjoy. Disclaimer: Don't own a thing except for Maximus and any OCs. Entertainment purposes only.**

* * *

Xander Harris paced the dark living area, running a hand through his hair. He was finding it impossible to get to sleep at this point. The past few days, Xander had witnessed quite a bit. But the scariest aspect was knowing that these Slayers, some of which he'd truly gotten to know and care for, were in such great danger.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned instinctively to face Rupert Giles, who sighed at the sight of him. "Oh, Xander," he said, "It's only you."

Xander raised an eyebrow. "You sounded a bit disappointed there, Big G."

"I thought that maybe . . . one of the Slayers had . . . " Giles trailed off, but Xander knew exactly what he was talking about.

"You and I both know there hasn't been a change," Xander said quietly, "It . . . it gets hard to look at them sometimes, y'know? All bug-eyed and unmoving."

"I quite agree," Giles replied with a sigh of frustration. "I just hope Buffy knows what she's coming up against. I have all the confidence in the world in her, but . . . "

"Sometimes you don't," Xander finished, "I get it. Big scary evil coming up and we all get nervous. Plus, Spike is out of commission . . . but I have a feeling something of the 'smooch' variety is finally going down between him and Buffy. Oh, joy." He said this last bit resentfully.

Giles sighed. "I'm not the biggest fan of Spike myself, but I don't quite know what to tell you, Xander. Buffy is under a lot of pressure, and, well . . . Spike seems to want to be . . . a support for her."

"Oh, right. 'Support'," Xander muttered, sporting air-quotes.

A bemused look on his face, Giles furrowed his eyebrows. "Do I pick up on a bit of jealousy, Xander?"

Xander looked down at the ground. "It's not that, Giles. I just worry about my best friend, is all. Innocent on all other jealousy-based charges."

Giles shook his head a little and began to walk away, pausing only to pat him on the back. "Then it's safe to say she'll always have you, Xander."

Xander could only hope that among all this news about what he and the others were facing, that Buffy would remember just that.

* * *

Angel stood out in the hallway, staring up at the ceiling absently. He wasn't about to wake anyone up, but he wasn't exactly used to sleeping at night. Plus, he'd rested on the long trip up to Slayer Central.

He heard Spike's obnoxiously loud footsteps on the stairway before he was even remotely near him, and Angel rolled his eyes. Great.

The look on Spike's face when he entered the hallway, though, awoke Angel's interest. He seemed positively . . . ecstatic. A rare look for someone like Spike.

And then Angel smelled a familiar scent on his clothes, on his skin, and Spike's cheery demeanor started to make a lot more sense.

Spike stopped when he saw Angel. "Oh. It's you. You stalkin' me now?"

Angel looked down at the floor. Of course he'd moved on a while ago, but it still hurt-

"Oi. O Great Hair-Gelled Chosen One. What are you gawkin' at?"

"Nothing," Angel replied quickly, "Are you here just to annoy me or do you have a set goal?"

"Am I startin' to smell good to you? All human and juicy?" Spike smirked. "Y'know, I never knew what it was like to be the tasty treat, but hell, is it awkward. No wonder humans run away in fear from us."

"Even if you were the most appetizing human in the entire world, Spike, soul or no soul, I wouldn't bite you if I were paid a million dollars," Angel dead-panned. He was in no mood for this.

"Ouch. Touchy-touchy, aren't we, Peaches?"

"You know, from my observation of humans," Angel said, beginning to pace the area outside the guest room, "I get this feeling that they like to sleep once in a while. Why don't you do that, and save me the trouble of knocking you unconscious?"

"Hey, listen. Just 'cause I'm human doesn't mean I can't kick your sorry arse."

"Oh, really? Because the way you fought against Illyria today was truly admirable."

"Oh, shut up, you ponce!"

"I smell her on you!" Angel blurted. Spike, who had been ready to shout another insult toward Angel, fell silent.

"Oh," was all he said after a moment, "Oh. Right. Well, in case you were wonderin', Buffy and I are . . . "

"This is how it starts," Angel said, his voice low, "You're human. Visions of you two growing old together start trickling into your mind, and hers. Everything's all perfect, and even when there's incoming turmoil, you just _know_ you can face it together."

"Yeah," Spike said, his nose upturned confidently, "Yeah, that's right."

"No, Spike, it's not," Angel argued, crossing his arms, "And you know it. I told you what happened to me. When this . . . happened."

"Maximus ponce decided he wanted to make me human," Spike challenged, "I can deal with it. I don't ruddy well like it all that much, but Buffy never gave up on me, and I'm not gonna mess it up like you did!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Angel replied, his voice rising, "What Buffy and I had in those moments that I was human, that first year I moved to LA, are something I'll never find again, with anyone else. And she doesn't remember any of it; she can't. We've been through this.

You're taking advantage of all this, and soon it'll all come back to you in worse ways than you can imagine. You're a liability, now, Spike. You're useless."

Suddenly, he froze, and the hairs on the back of his neck stiffened. He felt someone else behind him, and that scent he was so accustomed to filled the air.

Spike, who was no longer attuned to these things, unfortunately didn't pick up on it, and went on: "Look, mate. I'm human now, and I may not fancy it, but I'm actually happy right now. I'm not gonna sit around and do nothing just because there's an off chance that I might end up like your sorry arse when you and Buffy had your perfect life for a day."

"Spike . . . "Angel muttered, "Spike, shut up-"

"Yeah, I get all the pain with you rememberin' it all and her not having to. I get it, you git. But even if the same thing should happen to me, I wouldn't regret a single bloody thing."

"Spike!" Angel shouted. But Spike had already figured it out, as Angel saw his eyes widen at the person standing behind Angel.

Angel slowly turned around, facing Buffy. She stood, shaking, her face red with tears, eyes darting back and forth between him and Spike.

"I knew," she said, her voice cracking. Angel immediately bent his head, feeling ashamed. "I knew, when Spike first . . . when this happened to him, it felt so familiar."

Angel continued to stare at the ground. "Buffy, I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Sorry?" Buffy said, her voice rising, "Sorry? Is that all you have to say? From what I just heard, you and I . . . we were . . . happy. Even for a little while, we were happy. And you couldn't let me _remember_?"

"Buffy, I had no choice. The Powers That Be made a bargain with me; I had to take the day back to make myself a vampire again. I was hurting you because I couldn't defend myself!" Angel said pleadingly, trying to make her understand. By the look on her face, though, she didn't.

"And you," she snapped, looking beyond Angel to Spike, "You were so worried about being useless. I asked you why, and you lied to me. Angel gave you that idea, because, apparently, this has all _happened_ before!"

Angel watched as Spike looked Buffy in the eyes, and then exchanged a look with Angel himself. "It wasn't my secret to tell, love," he said. The statement took Angel by surprise. He'd been expecting some rude comment made in his direction, but instead, Spike was defending his reason for not telling Buffy what Angel had told him on the phone. This was turning into a very strange morning.

Buffy sniffed, and Angel once again felt a terrible guilt wash over him. "We need to have a very, very long talk," she said quietly, "But not right now. I . . . just . . . can't."

"Buffy-" Spike took a few steps forward, but Buffy held up her hands.

"No," she said, "I need to be alone."

She walked backward, slowly, tears pouring down her face, before she turned on her heel and stormed away. Angel stood there for a moment, unmoving, and Spike did the same.

"You didn't have to do that," Angel said after a while.

Spike looked up. "No idea what you're on about, you stupid Poofter," he muttered. But the name-calling lacked the usual edge that always accompanied Spike's tone. He sounded almost defeated.

He soon walked off down the hall as well, leaving Angel to haunting thoughts in the dark.


	12. Deeds

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews thus far and for the constructive criticism (I'm looking at you, Nicole! XD Much appreciated!) We're winding down a bit here, about six more chapters after this.**

* * *

"Willow, babe? Are you coming to bed?"

Kennedy, flopped down on the bed with her head resting in her hands, stared down at her girlfriend quizzically. Willow sat on the floor below.

"Yeah," Willow replied, "in a sec. This locator spell is all set, now. I really want it to work."

Kennedy shrugged. "You've been doing a lot of work today. Take a break!"

"I say that to you all the time," Willow retorted, "but you never stop."

"Well, Satsu and I have the responsibility of training our group of, sadly, five. It's kind of a big deal since we're the only Slayers besides Buffy who haven't gone all statuesque."

Willow nodded. "I . . . I wanna try it. If I can locate where this Maximus guy is, we can see if he really is the cause of all this."

"The blue girl seemed pretty sure about it," Kennedy said thoughtfully, "She's bad-ass. I like her."

Willow grinned. "Okay. This spell is going to tell me if there's a power source in this general area."

"Maximus guy has been as far as LA, apparently," Kennedy said, "How do you know he'll be near here?"

"Because all the Slayers are in one place, now," replied Willow matter-of-factly, "It's safe to say he'd be close. He's taken all this energy, and he's gonna want a fight."

She sprinkled some green powder around her in a circle, and began to recite words from an open book on the floor:

_"Artemis, goddess of strength, it is you I beseech. Lead me to the gathered power which I seek. Show me, let me know the forces within my reach."_

Kennedy raised her eyebrows. The more powerful and controlled Willow became with her magicks, the shorter her spells became.

Willow's eyes fluttered closed, and Kennedy realized that the spell was definitely working. She watched as Willow's eyes moved frantically behind her lids, and she began to breathe heavily, leaning forward and letting her bright red hair fall in front of her face.

"Willow?" Kennedy said skeptically, afraid to disrupt whatever the spell was doing, but also afraid for Willow's safety.

The witch threw her head back and said, in a low voice, "The woods," before falling into the green powder on the floor.

"Wil!" Kennedy immediately ran to Willow's side, shaking her shoulders. "Willow, are you okay?"

Willow slowly sat up, rubbing the back of her head gingerly. "Ow. Man, that hurt. That hasn't happened to me in a while. I think I'm getting a little rusty with locator spells." She sighed. "But the point my slightly creepy voice was trying to make still stands. Maximus, or his power, is located in the forest a few miles away from the castle."

"The place where we first spotted those Ngyya demons?" Kennedy asked.

"Yup, the very same. We should tell Buffy soon, but we should prepare." Willow took a deep breath. "I sensed so much power, Kennedy."

"Well, of course," Kennedy replied, "It's our power. And we're gonna get it back."

* * *

_Well, this is just bloody great._

Spike lay sprawled out on the bed, heaving a sigh. He'd spent the remainder of the night-morning, technically-unable to sleep once again. His eyes felt heavy and tired nonetheless; this human weakness was starting to annoy him a bit.

He got up and wandered to the window, closing his eyes and letting the sunlight warm his skin. Buffy was talking to Angel now, and Spike couldn't help but assume that their being together for such a long time would lead to much more than talking.

_I don't have a soddin' chance in the world, anymore_, he thought bitterly. Finding out that you had one perfect, marvelous day with someone you believed to be your soul mate? Feelings were bound to be resurrected in the "Buffy's Heart" department. In Angel's direction, though. Not Spike's.

His mind wandered to kissing her the night before. Spike had always been one to fight for what he wanted. Human or not, he wanted Buffy. All he'd ever wanted was her.

It was all going to shreds, now.

He punched the wall in spite of himself. Of course, it hurt him more than the wall. _Ow. Bollocks._

Spike needed a distraction from the mess incessantly rattling his brain. He headed out of the room and downstairs to see if there'd been any news about the condition of the Slayers, or of his current heartbeat-that-shouldn't.

Instead, he was surprised to find Dawn sitting on the couch in the main room, very much alone. She was staring down at her hands resting in her lap, her eyes seemingly transfixed on her fingernails.

Spike had known Dawn long enough (and spent enough time taking care of her when Buffy'd experienced a slight case of being dead) to be able to tell when something was bothering her. He decided now was as good a time as any to bond with this Summers girl, since the other obviously wouldn't talk to him at this rate.

He sighed and sat down next to her on the couch, and she looked up. "Oh. Hi, Spike."

"Hey, Niblet." Spike waited for her to protest the nickname as she'd done when he first arrived, but to his surprise, she said nothing.

Spike reflected for a bit on how his relationship with Dawn had changed over the years. Dawn used to attach herself quite closely to him, and he hadn't really minded. After he'd made mistake after mistake and hurt her sister, well . . . Dawn drifted. And with good reason.

Still, it didn't mean he hadn't missed having his Niblet around in the last couple of years.

He decided he might as well start patching up what was broken between them now. What did he have to lose? Spike let down his tough exterior for a moment, reached out and put a hand on Dawn's knee. "You all right?"

She looked him in the eyes, and for a split second, Spike saw the 15-year-old girl who looked to him for guidance in Sunnydale, who listened to him ramble on about her sister, who sat and watched Westerns and ate pepperoni pizza with him.

Dawn shook her head slowly. "Nah. Not really. Everything's happening all at once, and . . . I'm just afraid, you know? And it sucks that I can't do anything. I keep telling Buffy that I'm not a kid anymore; I'm in college. I'm on my own. And I _still_ can't help."

Spike shook his head. "That ain't true. You're a good support system for her and all that. Slayer needs her sister." He said Buffy's alternate name with a twinge of bitterness, and Dawn seemed to pick up on it.

She frowned. "You're not okay, either, are you?"

"I'm fine," he assured automatically. "Just leave it."

"It's Buffy, isn't it?"

Spike sighed. "Guess I made it a bit obvious, huh?"

"Just a little. You have the puppydog look, Spike. The I-love-Buffy-but-things-aren't-good look. I know you."

"Honestly, Dawn? I'd rather not talk about it." Spike had spent so much time thinking about the situation that he just wanted to keep it out of his mind.

"Well, for what it's worth . . . " Dawn muttered, "No matter what happens, or what's happened . . . I'm glad you're back."

She smiled at him, and Spike smiled back in spite of himself, ruffling her hair. "Yeah. Thanks."

_At least someone is_, he thought bitterly. And with that, he leaned back against the couch and fell into ease as he chatted with Dawn. Maybe all he'd needed was a little pick-me-up from his other favorite Summers girl.

- - - - -

"Why, Angel?"

She glared at him expectantly, and found herself staring into his brown eyes, full of emotion.

"I already told you, Buffy," he said quietly, "If you ever knew about all of it . . . I mean, you were able to lead your own life without me. And as long as you were happy, I was okay with that."

"But _we_ were happy. For a second, we were happy," Buffy replied, lifting a hand to rub her temple warily.

Angel shook his head. "It was because I was human, and you know that. Buffy, believe me. If the world could've kept on turning without having to be saved all the time . . . we could've been . . . " He sighed. "People like us aren't supposed to exist like that."

"Like what?" Buffy challenged, her voice rising, "We're not supposed to be happy?"

"Not with each other," was Angel's argument in return, "We can't. The world needs saving, and that job unfortunately falls on us. Day after day." He took a few steps forward, looking her in the eyes head-on. "I care about you too much, Buffy, to risk your life because of wanting to be with you."

Buffy felt the hot tears in her eyes again. In spite of herself, she slammed her fist against her desk. "Dammit, Angel!" she cried, her voice wavering, "Why is it that every time I see you, my heart always breaks? Whenever you're here . . . " She slowly moved toward him, shaking, "I feel like I'm broken."

Buffy's eyes widened in surprise as she felt Angel's hand brush against her face, wiping away a tear, "Buffy. I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Before either of them could say anything more, she leaned up and kissed him, feeling sixteen again, weak in the knees and wishing that she'd never let him go all those years ago-

"Uh . . . guys? Sorry to interrupt the moment, but we got a problem."

The voice of Charles Gunn steered Buffy back to reality, and, blushing violently, she pulled away from Angel to see him standing in the doorway.

"What is it, Gunn?" Angel asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

Gunn cleared his throat. "It's . . . a problem in the big sense. You might wanna come see."

Buffy and Angel awkwardly made their way to exit the room. Buffy couldn't help but wonder, though, why the kiss had felt so different. Like it was part of something far, far away.

* * *

"It is time," said Maximus, his eyes darting back and forth wildly.

Demons of every shape and size stood around him, cackling as Maximus went on, "The lead Slayer. She will come to us, with all her energy. In an attempt to save her Slayers, because her Slayers save the world." He shook his head, chuckling. "It's too precious, really."

"But, sir, shouldn't we move someplace more secluded? The witch knows where we are, now."

"Yes, she does," Maximus replied, "which is why I sent her a nice little personal message of sorts. They'll know we're ready. We will move when we sense their trailing us. Aramadus!" he shouted abruptly, and a large, purple demon walked toward him and bowed.

"Yes, sir?" said Aramadus.

"You know what to do. Get the opening ready. The Slayer and her team will walk into our trap with open arms."


	13. Decision

**A/N: Enjoy. :D DISCLAIMER: This is for fun, I own nothing, etc.**

* * *

"You have perfected the style of moping almost as well as Angel has," Illyria said matter-of-factly as she headed up the stairs with Spike. They were trailing behind Giles, Andrew, Gunn, Buffy, and Angel. Spike, though, was in no mood to deal with anyone at the moment.

"Have I?" he muttered, "What the bloody hell does it matter?"

"It doesn't, vampire," Illyria replied, "What matters is the most current issue that has come to the attention of the fiery-haired one."

Spike shrugged, turning a corner into Willow's room where everyone had been called to gather. "Yeah, well, until I know what that is, I'm not gonna-"

His speech faltered as he saw the scene before him.

Willow was knelt on the ground, Xander by her side, gazing up at none other than the Slayer Kennedy, who hovered in mid-air like the other Slayers before her. Her eyes were frozen open in terror. However, there was something different about her that Spike noticed immediately:

Nailed into her shoulder was a piece of parchment, which read, _Take and you shall be taken from._

Spike watched as Buffy ran to her best friend, wrapping her arms around her. "Oh, God. Willow. Are you okay?"

Willow shook her head slowly. "I thought she'd be safe . . . now that we know where he is . . . "

"Who?" Angel asked, "Maximus?"

"He is close by," Illyria clarified, tilting her head to the side, "He has sent a message."

"Yeah," Xander said sarcastically, "I think we pretty much figured that one out."

"Willow . . . " Buffy lowered her voice. "What happened?"

Willow ran a hand through her hair. "I did a locator spell. Maximus is in the woods . . . he'll move, now, Buffy! He knows! And he's angry that I found out, so he . . . I was asleep, we were both just . . . asleep, and when I woke up, she was like this." She stood up shakily, attempting to tend to Kennedy's wound.

Giles reached out and touched her arm. "It's alright, Willow. Andrew and I will take care of her. Until then, we must wait-"

"No," Buffy interrupted, standing up, "Giles, you know I'm always willing to hear you out. But we can't wait anymore. She's one of our strongest fighters. Maximus isn't playing games anymore. He wants a fight, he's made that damn well clear. He's saying he could've chosen any one of us to hurt like he hurt Kennedy and our girls. He's exerting control."

Spike had been watching all this unfold, and finally spoke up: "So, what are we gonna do? Throw ourselves at the wanker so he can drain us dry of our energy?"

She turned to him, her eyes wild and passionate, and replied, "We're going to do what we can. I didn't ask for your commentary."

"Oh, that's right," Spike muttered, his voice rising now, "You didn't ask for me to be here at all to begin with. Don't need a constant bloody reminder."

"This isn't about you, Spike," Angel snapped, stepping over to tower over him.

Spike clenched his fists, feeling his pulse quicken in anger. "It's about you, though, isn't it? Has to be. You showed up to be the big damn hero to make the rest of us look like rubbish-"

"Enough!" was Willow's voice. Everyone shifted their gaze to look at her. Her eyes were dark and cold as ice, and in spite of himself Spike felt a jolt of fear shoot through him. He figured it was instinct telling him that Willow officially meant business.

She continued: "We all have personal problems to get through. But Maximus has made this _fight_ personal. Without the power of the Slayers, we don't stand a chance against whatever evil turns up next. Maximus is making sure of that." She glanced once again at her unmoving partner, and shut her eyes. "Buffy's right. We need to act now."

Dawn emerged from the doorway. "I'll round up the remaining girls downstairs. What do you want me to tell them?" She directed her last question at Buffy.

Buffy looked her sister in the eyes. "Tell them to get ready. This is war."

* * *

"Uh, sorry, but what the hell is this thing?"

Xander looked up at Charles Gunn, who was eyeing something in the weaponry chest in the command room. "Oh, that's a crossbow-laser. Could be useful, I guess, if you feel like carrying it around. It's a one-way ticket for Maximus to laser-arrow city."

Gunn nodded slowly. "Right. Okay. In my day, there was either one or the other."

Xander smirked a little. "We like to keep up with technology. I think it's mostly to raise the bad-ass factor," he retorted.

"Hey, man. To each his own."

Everyone was running to and fro at Slayer Central, gathering what was needed. Xander wasn't sure what would be enough to win this. However, the added muscle power of Angel and his team was certainly a plus.

Also, Xander couldn't help but think, the blue girl was definitely a looker.

Something, however, was going on behind all the drama concerning the Slayers. And it had to do with a certain blonde Slayer he knew so well.

Buffy was stuck in a classic love triangle, and everyone knew it.

"She's doing it again," Dawn had said to him the day before.

"Doing what?" he'd asked.

"Falling in love with him."

"With Spike? Or Angel? Because, honestly, either way, the soap-opera-drama included in both packages is something I'm not fond of."

Dawn had shaken her head with a small smile. "With both of them."

* * *

Buffy stared at the always-powerful weapon in her hands. It had been with her through thick and thin, since she could remember.

A wooden stake.

She wasn't sure how much use it would be, or how much they'd all be up against. But if her dreams had been any indication of what was to come, it was going to be bad. Very bad.

It didn't help that within the last twenty-four hours, she'd kissed her two vampire ex-boyfriends because she was oh-so great at making decisions in the Love Department.

She sighed. She was angry with both of them. Spike was, of course, being his usual pompous self, and Angel was making her feel guilty about her reaction to everything he'd kept from her.

Once more she let out an exasperated breath, thinking for a moment. Maximus had taken her Slayers, and now Kennedy, and made their energy into his own.

He'd taken Spike and made him human. And for what?

"It's because I'm weak."

His voice took her by surprise, and she whirled around to see Spike leaning against the doorframe. Even when she was angry with him, he still looked unbearably attractive. Typical.  
What she found odd was that he'd seemed to know exactly what she'd been thinking.

"I don't remember it," he went on, "But I don't think I'm supposed to. He did this to me so I could be a nice, ripe, juicy, weak human."

She stared down at the floor. "You're not weak," she said quietly.

"I wasn't," he corrected, "And once that ponce found out I'd be comin' to help you out, he decided to do somethin' about it. Of course, your sweepin' Prince Forehead's here to save the day, which I don't think Maximus was countin' on, so I reckon you'll be just fine."

Buffy bit her lip. Perfect. Spike had always been the jealous type. "I don't know what you want me to say, Spike-"

"Don't have to say a word, pet," he interrupted, shuffling back and forth in the space of her office, "I suppose you and Angelcakes had enough fun talking in here this morning."

His voice was full of venom, and Buffy's eyes widened. How could he have known about the kiss?

Again, he seemed to read her mind: "I smell him all over you."

"That's impossible," she countered, "You're not a vampire anymore."

"No, I'm not," he agreed, glaring at her, "But there's this thing called cologne that your undead hubby wears a bit too much of, if you didn't notice."

_Oh_. Buffy ducked her head, feeling foolish. "Spike, it just . . . happened, okay? He's not my 'undead hubby'. He's here to help me fight."

"And to put his slobbery lips all over you, yeah," Spike finished.

Buffy moved toward him angrily, poking his chest with the stake. He chuckled. "That won't do much to me at the mo', love."

She hated that he called her that. _Love_. It reminded her of every time in the past the word had fallen from his lips in her direction, and how it always made her shudder.

"You need to grow up," she said through gritted teeth, "What happened with Angel today . . . he caught me at a weak moment. It was . . . different. I'm not about to start choosing between you and him like it's a life-or-death situation. This? With the girls, and you, and this warlock who thinks he owns the world? This is life-or-death. If you don't want to help, then go."

"You don't get it, do you?" he muttered, starting to head out the door, "All I wanted to do in the first place was help. 'Course, you were too busy pissin' off to see it."

There was ache in his tone.

"Spike . . . " she muttered, "I . . . I know you wanted to help. I know that. Spike, when I kissed you, the other night, I . . it was . . . "

_Wonderful. A reminder of how I missed you when I thought you were dead. God, I'd sound like an idiot if I said that, wouldn't I?_ There he was, making a babbling schoolgirl out of her again. Buffy was about to say something else, when another voice spoke up:

"So, who ordered an all-out war preventing an apocalypse and didn't invite me?"

Both Spike and Buffy stared, perplexed, at Faith Lehane, who stood in front of them, grinning.

"Hey, B."


	14. Deep Down

**A/N: Sorry for the late update. Enjoy! As usual, this is just for fun. BtVS belongs to Mutant Enemy.**

* * *

" . . . Faith . . . " Buffy muttered, "I didn't even see you come in."

Faith eyed her and Spike, wiggling her eyebrows. "I figured. Considering you two are looking at each other the same way you did last time I saw you together. The googly eyes? Kind of obvious."

_Leave it to Faith to point that out_, Buffy thought bitterly. Googly-eyes? Hah. As if. She was still too confused and angry with Spike to be making googly-eyes at him . . . Right?

"Heard about your humanity kick, Spikey-boy, good on you," Faith continued, absently taking a seat right on Buffy's desk.

"Uh . . . yeah. Right. I'm thrilled," Spike muttered.

"Anyway, when Giles gave me the call about all the hubbub here, thought I was safe," Faith went on, "Until I heard about a bunch of mysterious disappearance gigs near my area. This Maximus guy's got a hard-on for Slayer power, doesn't he?"

Buffy shook her head, smiling a little. Okay, so maybe Faith's inappropriate jokes were enough to break the tension. She certainly needed that.

"Figured you could use another Slayer around to help hold the fort."

_And a distraction from the blonde no-longer-a-vampire staring at me_, Buffy added mentally.

"Yeah," she said aloud, leading Faith out of the room, "Let's get you caught up with everyone else." 

* * *

"Willow, whenever you say it's safe to make a move out, we will," Buffy said.

Angel watched as the remaining active Slayers paced the room, whispering, while Andrew bit his fingernails nervously and Faith sharpened a knife.

She caught him staring at her: "Hey, Angel, man. A couple of centuries of staring should've told you that people think it's creepy when you do it."

He shrugged, giving her a half-smile. He and Faith had been on very good terms over the last few years, because they shared one common mission: redemption. Atonement for their past sins.

Faith wasn't the picture-perfect image of a Slayer. Angel wasn't the picture-perfect image of a vampire. It just seemed right that they'd click now that Faith was considerably less, well, insane than when she first showed up in Sunnydale.

Next thing he knew, she was looking up at him with raised eyebrows. "Something tells me this fight isn't the only thing on your mind, Soul Boy."

Angel said nothing, so she spoke up again: "It's Buffy, isn't it?"

He finally looked at her sheepishly, and she rolled her eyes. "Of course. That girl sends you for a loop every time. B's got the look, I guess." She sighed. "So, what happened?"

Angel thought for a moment, fishing for what to say. What _had_ happened?

Spike had come to Scotland, Angel had told him not to. Slayers were being paralyzed around the world and Angel came to help as well.

But he knew deep down that wasn't all he'd wanted, because that morning he'd kissed Buffy with everything he had. Spike had become human and had been given an opportunity, albeit a dangerous one, to take advantage of a life Angel could only dream of having. Spike was taking Buffy away. And Angel couldn't stand the thought of that.

Spike was making a fool out of him.

Yes, Angel had kissed Buffy the way he used to, with all the passion in the world, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

So that was exactly what he told Faith: "I'm not enough."

Faith shook her head, gazing at her reflection in the switchblade she held. "Listen up, bud," she said. Her brown eyes met his. "Maybe you and B were enough for each other when you were all lovey-dovey back in the day. With all the heart-shaped candies and x's and o's carved into tree trunks."

He raised an eyebrow at her odd references, but she went on: "But the point is, you both grew up. You're still stuck in a twenty-something body and will be forever, dude, but that doesn't mean you can't change. She changed, too. Only thing is that you know you'll still care for each other, and all that crap. That's the kind of thing that never fades. You love her. She loves you. But in a different way than before."

He stared at her as she spoke, surprised. Faith was never one for words like this, and it took him aback slightly, even more so because he knew that she just may be right.

When she finished, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Thanks, Faith."

She shrugged him off, reaching into a nearby box to grab an ax. "Don't mention it. Just don't get all fluffy on me, okay? We have a fight to win."

Angel smiled slightly after her as she walked away. Damn. Slayers always knew how to get him good.

He was about to have a quick talk with Buffy about what Faith had helped him realize, when he heard Willow's voice behind him.

"It's time. He's got an army ready. We have to go."

Angel knew there wasn't any more time to waste. Buffy was just heading out the door when he touched her arm. "Buffy," he said quietly, "We need to talk."

She looked at him, sadness in her eyes. "We will," she said in a hushed voice, "On the way."

* * *

"I love you, you know."

Angel's words were simple, but they fell through Buffy's ears like broken glass, making her eyes sting with tears. She had been thinking about their kiss that morning for a very long time, and had realized a lot. Apparently, by the look on Angel's face with his request to talk to her, he had been thinking a lot, too.

"I know you do," she said quietly.

He reached out and touched her arm as they moved, side by side, through the Scotland woods. According to Willow, Maximus and his army were up ahead. Xander and the others trailed behind them.

"I talked to Faith today," Angel said, "While we were waiting for the sun to go down. She made me realize some things about us."

Buffy gulped. She tried to cover up her nerves by retorting, "If Faith's Dr. Phil, now, then I'm the Queen of England."

He chuckled. "In her own way, she helped me understand what it is we have with each other now."  
Buffy stared down at the woods below her. "Enlighten me," she replied.

"We're all grown up, Buffy. Today was the last hurrah."

Hearing the words in his voice, and knowing that she'd been thinking the same, made the tears fall in full force. Buffy quickly lifted a hand to brush them away. "I know that," she whispered.

Angel caught her gaze briefly. "I never meant for you to find out about our perfect day the way you did. And I'm sorry I lied to you. I wouldn't have kept it from you if I had the choice."

"I know," she repeated.

He continued: "Now, we have to focus on the battle. But after . . . after this is all over, we're going to part ways again. We always do. And a certain peroxide-blonde is going to be there waiting in the wings for you."

Buffy smiled through her tears, and Angel went on: "And you're going to want to be with him."

She didn't know how Angel always seemed to understand what she was feeling. "Angel . . . I don't want to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt either of you."

"I get that," he replied, "But I knew when I kissed you this morning that your heart was somewhere else."

She sniffed. "I'm sorry, Angel."

"You notice that we always end up apologizing to each other?" Angel asked thoughtfully, and Buffy had to agree. She nodded. "I don't want to do that anymore. When this is done, I want us to move on. I'm never going to stop caring about you, and I'll always be here for you." He sighed. "But you have your life, and I have mine. We decided this years ago, and what's happened lately is only more proof that it's true. Someday I want you to come to LA. Meet my kid. Go to a movie, whatever."

Buffy laughed again. "Point is, there will always be that spark between us. But it's time to let go." He reached out and touched her hand, and she threaded her fingers through his before pulling away slowly. She was finally letting go.


	15. Denominator

"It seems as if a rise in crime has taken place; unstoppable mayhem is the only way locals are able to describe the terrorizing of cities throughout the nation."

Rupert Giles narrowed his eyes at the blaring television before him, as a newscaster attempted to describe the onset of demon and vampire activity throughout the local area with no Slayers to stop it. Maximus was going public, and so were Buffy and the others.

"Do you think they'll be alright, Mr. Giles?" was Andrew's ever-dramatic voice next to him. They had been told to stand guard at home and watch the Slayers, in case Maximus or any of his minions decided to do anything, as Faith had put it, "trippy". Giles wasn't a fan of standing idly by while the Slayer he had once been watcher to tried to face one of the biggest enemies they'd come across in a long while.

But knowing Buffy, Giles hadn't lost a bit of confidence.

"Yes," he answered, "They'll be just fine."

Andrew's eyes darted back and forth nervously between the television and the elder Watcher. "So what do we do until they get back?"

Giles looked down at the floor for a moment, before catching Andrew's eye. "We wait."

* * *

"Well, here we go," Dawn Summers muttered, lugging various weapons in a satchel on her back, "We're in the fight of our lives. Again."

Buffy stopped short, mostly at Dawn's comment but also as an attempt to play off the fact that she almost walked head-on into a tree. She wasn't familiar with this area of the woods. It was fortunate that Willow, Illyria and Angel all had the ability to pick up the traces of Maximus and his minions. Otherwise, she'd be completely clueless. Plus, she was a bit distracted still concerning the talk she and Angel had had.

"This is serious, Dawn," she chastised her sister, anyway, "I want you to be careful. You shouldn't even be here. This isn't-"

"My fight," Dawn finished, "It never is. But I'm not fifteen, anymore. And I'm going to help you win this."

Buffy reached over to squeeze her sister's hand in appreciation before moving further. She held her infamous red scythe in her other hand. She was glad to never have lost it in any battle; ever since the Sunnydale apocalypse it had become quite useful.

She hoped it would be useful enough to fight off Maximus.

"So, what did you and Angel talk about earlier?" Dawn quipped. "Did it involve more smooching?"  
Buffy let out a cry of exasperation. "Did everyone find out about that? Angel's friend Gunn is certainly no secret-keeper."

"The looks on both your faces when we were heading up to Willow's were dead giveaways. You should work on that," Dawn explained. There was a moment of silence between the sisters until Dawn pressed, again: "Well? What happened?"

Buffy took a deep breath. "We . . . we're moving on. That's all. I mean, I'll never stop loving him. But it's different, now. We're okay with our lives heading in separate directions."

Dawn nodded. "So . . . it's a different kind of love."

"Yeah," Buffy said, "Different. It's strong, but . . . different. It feels right the way it is now."

"And what about Spike?" Sigh. Dawn, always with the pestering questions.

"He won't talk to me," Buffy replied quietly, which was true. Since their last little argument in front of Faith, Spike hadn't said a word to her. "What with my kissing him and then Angel right after."

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Dawn said, "But sometimes people have to get hurt, and hurt each other before they realize what's important."

Buffy felt her sister had never said anything so wise. But would she be able to patch things up with Spike in time? Her thoughts wandered to the dreams she'd had; the first of them seemed to have happened ages ago, even though a mere couple of weeks had passed. A lot had changed.

And yet Buffy couldn't help but worry that the visions of defeat in fire and chaos in her dreams would become reality. She was worried about her sister, Willow, her friends, Angel . . .

She thought of the Spike in her nightmares, clawing for solid ground, for balance, for strength that he didn't have, and it worried her more than it ever had before.

* * *

"You never were one to switch it up with weapons."

Spike rolled his eyes at Angel's voice behind him, and within seconds Angel was walking beside him. He figured Angel had noticed he didn't have much in the way of weaponry on-hand. "Who needs a bunch of ruddy swords when you've got a perfectly good fist for punching?" He sighed, wiping some sweat from his brow. Sweating was another thing he didn't like so much about being human. He certainly hadn't missed it. "What do you want, Poof?"

"I figured since we're en route to our potential downfall, I should tell you how much I utterly despise you."

Spike eyed Angel suspiciously, and then placed a hand over his heart mockingly. "Oh, Captain Broody. I'm touched at your honesty. It's too bad I figured that out a _century_ ago."

"I'm not finished," Angel said decidedly.

"Oh, please. Do go on. 'Cause I've got a few choice words for you, too-"

"Buffy loves you," Angel said flatly.

Spike stopped in mid-step, his jaw jammed shut as he mumbled through his teeth, "Really not the time, Poofter."

"It's exactly the time," Angel countered, "And you know it. You've got everything I ever wanted. Humanity without a price, and Buffy."

"If she wanted me so much, she wouldn't have been sucking your face off, pal," Spike spat.

"Will you just shut up for a second, you dim-wit?" Angel barked.

Spike raised his hands defensively. "Hey, now, vampy. Don't get all angry on me."

"I damn well will. And do you know why?" Angel said, quickening his pace enough that Spike had to move hastily to catch up, "Because all this time you've been human, and you've been with her, and from the moment I showed up here I knew you were all she saw."

Spike stopped again, grabbing Angel's shoulder. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"She loves you, you dumbass, and you're just acting like it's a big joke!" Angel cried.

"A joke?" Spike retorted, "I came all the way out here to help her and she twisted my arm, being all sweetness and light when I turned human and then turning around to snog you, right under my nose. If it's a joke to anyone, it's to _her_, not me."

Angel's expression softened, and they walked in silence for a bit. Finally, he said: "Look. I know Buffy pretty damn well. Whether you have a heartbeat or not doesn't make a difference. I hate to admit it, because, well," he sighed, "I hate you . . . "

Spike let out a _psh_ sound before letting Angel continue: "But I know you've changed. You're still a lovesick idiot, but you changed. You kept a secret of mine when I told you to, which you never would've done years ago. And you're here even though you don't stand a chance against this Maximus-"

"Hey, I wouldn't go that far-"

"And I talked to Buffy a while ago when we were just heading out," Angel finally began to wrap up, "It's clear who her heart's set on. We talked things over, and it's perfectly clear."

Spike didn't want to believe any of this right now. He couldn't. Buffy had toyed with his heart too many times. "It's because my heart's beating now," he said, "S'got nothing to do with me. It's got to do with my being human, now. If it had happened to you, you big sod, she'd be runnin' into your arms any second now."

"No, she wouldn't," Angel replied, "And the problem with you is that you're just like her. You're too blind to see what's in front of you. I know how . . . how she can make you feel. She's a hell of a girl. And she never backs down, no matter what."

Spike knew Angel was right, so he let him go on:

"If she didn't care about you enough, she wouldn't have been trying so hard to distance herself from you." Angel stopped walking, turning to face Spike. "I'm gonna leave you with that and go find Gunn and Illyria. Get everything I just said through your pea-brain, and when all this is over, if we make it out alive . . . " He stared down at Spike menacingly, "You better take care of her, or I'll kill you."

Spike stared at Angel as he walked off into a dark patch of the forest, completely taken aback.  
Had Angel just given him . . . his blessing?

Before he could dwell on it further, he heard Gunn yell behind him as a figure he knew had to be a vampire lunged at him.

He only had time to think a final two words before lunging at the approaching army of demons and vamps coming from all sides: _It's started_.


	16. Destruction

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates! Winding down, guys. Only two chapters left. Thanks for sticking with this! DISCLAIMER: Entertainment purposes only, all that jazz.**

* * *

Willow Rosenberg thought she'd never been surrounded by so much power.

"Argh!" she shouted as a demon came at her; she used some of her power to deflect it, causing it to stumble backwards. She did this to a couple of other demons in her path, absently, for her mind was elsewhere.

A man hovered above the army of demons, above Willow and her friends, watching. Maximus. The power felt like pressure all around her body. Willow was completely intrigued and completely terrified all at once.

Willow quickly looked to her left, seeing Angel fighting off a huge, black, snarling demon she'd never seen before in her life. She gulped. This was what he was using Kennedy and the Slayers for. All of this madness.

_Okay, Wil. Focus. He's storing his power somewhere_ . . . There were rocks and trees everywhere, all kinds of objects scattered about-it could be anywhere, anything.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and whirled around in surprise, only to relax a little when she saw that it was Xander standing behind her.

"Xan. Hey," she said, trying not to look panicked.

Xander put an arm around her. "I know what you're thinking. I've known you too long," he said matter-of-factly. "You're gonna kick this guy's ass, in a classic Willow-y fashion."

Willow smiled, taking Xander's hand and squeezing it. "Thanks, Xander."

She pulled away to look at the sight before her once again.

"It's gonna be one crazy ride, isn't it?" Xander asked quietly.

Willow nodded, half-smiling at her best friend. "Yeah. Isn't it always?"

She needed to move quickly.

* * *

"Oi, you son of a bitch, don't appreciate you ruinin' my jacket. Got a history with this thing!"

Spike dodged the blow of what appeared to be, in his experience, a R'pya demon. With ten times more power than usual.

Maybe that was because the demon was stronger under Maximus' power. Or, possibly, it was due to the fact that Spike wasn't exactly superhuman anymore. Spike wasn't really sure. He was too busy getting repeatedly hit on all sides.

"Bloody hell . . . " he muttered, wiping some blood and sweat from his brow.

He heard Faith and Buffy yelling as they continued to fight behind him. Spike, though, was feeling a bit on the dizzy side. _Bugger . . ._

"Aah! No! Let me go!"

Spike whirled around, immediately recognizing the voice of Dawn behind him as a vampire attempted to bite her neck, closing his arms around her small frame.

_No. Not Dawn, dammit!_ Ignoring the ache in his bones, Spike lunged at the vampire, tearing him off Dawn. "Dawn!" he shouted as he began to fight the vampire, "Dawn, go!"

Looking completely terrified, Dawn nodded meekly and ran away, crossbow in hand.

The vampire growled. "William the Bloody," he snarled, "has been made into _this_? This pathetic human form? Ha!"

"Piss off," Spike muttered, attempting to punch the vampire. But he was no match, as the vampire snapped at his neck, pulling out a chunk of his skin in the process.

Spike howled in pain, staggering to the ground with a _thud_. Cussing loudly, he shakily stood up again. The vampire was long gone, but he was the least of Spike's worries now.

He gaped up at the sky as Maximus the warlock began to release gigantic strains of fire from his hands, his eyes a piercing black in the night sky. The entire forest seemed to ignite at once.  
Just like in the nightmare he'd had. It seemed like forever ago, to Spike, after everything that had happened.

"He intends to incinerate us," Spike heard Illyria say behind him.

"Gee," he muttered wearily, "Hadn't noticed."

* * *

"Hey, B," Faith Lehane spat as she issued a round-kick to a demon's stomach, "Any means of a plan?"

Buffy, who was beside her fighting off another demon, glanced at the fellow Slayer. "Um, kick various asses, avoid catching fire until we get close to Warlock of the Year?"

Faith shrugged, dodging a ball of fire. "Sounds good."

"Buffy! Faith!"

Both Slayers turned their attention to Willow, who was now panting, her eyes cast up at the sky, "I found out where he's holding all the power!"

Buffy stabbed the demon she'd been fighting for the past few minutes, glaring at it significantly before looking at Willow. "Where?"

"Look behind him," Willow said, her gaze still fixed at something beyond them, "There's a portal. It's all glowy just like the rest of his body, so it blends in. He made it that way. It's a portal that's storing all the Slayers' energy and the energy he took from Spike."

Buffy, who had been slowly making her way toward Maximus in between fighting demons, squinted up at him. Sure enough, there was a bright light behind him that he looked as if to be guarding.

"But it's a portal, right?" Faith questioned, "Anyone can just jump in and out. What's his deal?"

Willow shook her head. "It's not just a portal, it's _his_ portal. He designed it especially to house all his energy, and he controls it entirely. If it ever should open without his control, all the energy would come flying out."

"So," Buffy finished, "we need to distract him enough so that he loses control of the portal."

Willow finally looked at them, her eyes glowing bright with power. "Exactamundo," she said.

Buffy nodded firmly. She turned to Faith. "Hold down the fort back here. Help Xander and Dawn, and Angel and his crew when they need it. I'm gonna go have a chat with this guy."  
Faith nodded and warily watched her go.

* * *

Buffy Summers, scythe in hand, kicked various creatures out of her way as she marched toward Maximus as he hovered above her.

She knew what to do, now, and she'd be damned if she would let this guy ruin what she had taken years to achieve. She and her friends had worked hard so that there could be more Slayers in the world to help fight against the forces of darkness. Buffy'd had enough with Maximus trying to ruin that.

"Hey! Maxipad! Can I have a word?" she shouted, smirking.

Maximus stared down at her, having stopped using his powers to create fire as it had spread as quickly as he had thrown it. "Ah. You are the leader. Your power . . . it practically rolls off you. It _sings_."

"Yeah, okay, sure," Buffy muttered absently, "But here's the thing. I'm not letting you have any of it. You've taken too much from me. From us. And we want it back."

"Oh," Maximus replied floating a bit lower to level himself with her gaze, "Isn't that a shame?"

And with that, he lifted his hands and sent a huge blast of energy in her direction, powerful enough that it caused her to fly right to the ground.

"Oof!" She landed on the forest ground, fire surrounding her as she began to cough.

"Oh, yes," continued Maximus, "You are strong. Just not strong enough."

Buffy got up, staggering back toward him. "I won't let you win this, even if it kills me," she said firmly.

"Well," he said, as if he were pondering the situation, "When I kill you and your little army, all the energy that's drained from you will be mine. So, I'd say it's a, how do you say, win-win situation?"

Buffy sighed, clutching the scythe. She certainly was averting Maximus' attention from the portal, but not enough that he would lose his focus on controlling it.

"I know what you are trying to do. The Witch has told you everything, hasn't she?"

_Oh_, Buffy thought, _well . . . this is just unfortunate._

"She will die first," Maximus continued, and Buffy gulped. She needed to move fast.

"Need a hand?" said a voice. Buffy looked to her right, facing Spike, who stood next to her hunched forward slightly. He looked like he had been severely injured, and Buffy wanted nothing more than to run to him and see if he was all right.

"Spike . . . " she said in an almost-whisper, "What are you-"

"Ah. The vampire," Maximus said, "Well . . . the vampire that was. Your energy is going to be quite useful to me."

Spike coughed, squinting up at Maximus. "Yeah, well, you made me human. Big deal. I'm still here, fightin' in an attempt to kick your arse."

Maximus chuckled. "Out of my way, William. The Slayer is who I'm interested in. After all . . . what would all these little girls be without their leader?" He grinned, turning to Buffy. "All of your friends are busy fighting the battle you told them to. Who's here to help you, besides this pathetic mortal?"

Buffy raised her scythe angrily, but Maximus was quicker: holding his hands out in front of him, he chanted a few words, his eyes turning pitch black once again. Suddenly a huge, black ball of dark energy hovered between his hands.

"Say goodbye, Slayer," he said, and he tossed it at her.

And then, for Buffy, everything seemed to happen in a blur. She heard a shout of "No!" from Spike beside her, and suddenly he was in front of her, having jumped out to take the blow.

"Spike!" Buffy cried as she saw him flying out of view to the ground.

A million voices seemed to be calling out to her, but the one she heard the clearest was Willow's: "Buffy! Buffy, do it now!"

With a mixture of anger and determination, Buffy swung the scythe at Maximus, who had been focused on conjuring the dark matter, and promptly cut off his head.

"I think," Buffy muttered as she watched Maximus' body fall to the floor and his head roll off to the side, "that was distraction enough, Wil. Don't you?"

Suddenly, there was a huge flash of light from the portal that hovered where Maximus had been, as rays seemed to escape from it like shooting stars.

* * *

Angel stared, wide-eyed at the sight above him.

"What the hell happened, man?" Gunn asked, squinting at the light, "Did we win?"

"Buffy killed Maximus," Angel replied proudly, watching all the demons he'd been in mid-spar with fall to the ground and disintegrate, "All this . . . it's power. Power being returned."

The light faded, slowly, until only the moon illuminated the figures of those standing around him. The silence was almost deafening.

Finally, it was Illyria who spoke up: "It is over. Have there been any casualties?"

Angel heard the voice of Xander beside him as he mumbled bitterly, "Just one."

Angel followed his gaze and immediately looked down at the ground after what he saw.

Buffy knelt near the now closed portal, cradling an unmoving Spike in her arms.


	17. Dawning

**A/N: Thanks for sticking by me with this fic. ONE more chapter left (an epilogue!). Hope you enjoy! DISCLAIMER: BtVS does not belong to me, etc etc.**

* * *

"My God," Rupert Giles gasped as he stood in the doorway, watching the group of Slayers, vampires, humans and everything in between returning to Slayer Central. "They did it."

Andrew came bounding down the stairs, arms linked with two very much awake Slayers, "Their energy has been restored! Oh, happy day! Uh . . . night!"

But by the look on Buffy's face as she moved toward them, Giles didn't think she looked so happy, at all. Even from a little ways off, he could see she looked hunched over. Defeated.  
He moved out of the way to let everyone through, as Andrew hurried to gather various First Aid kits. Willow immediately ran to hug a now conscious Kennedy. Giles smiled in spite of himself before turning his attention to the doorway. Then, he noticed that Buffy was carrying something.

No, not something. Someone. That someone was Spike.

"Buffy," he whispered, "What . . . what happened?"

Buffy moved silently toward the couch nearby, placing Spike there gingerly. "Maximus tried to kill me. Spike was an idiot. You can figure out the rest," she said flatly.

Giles shook his head. Obviously Spike had become a liability since becoming human, but Giles hadn't expected anything like this to happen.

"Buffy," he said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, "I'm sorry. But sometimes sacrifices need to be made. You saved our Slayers. You saved the world, once again."

"But it isn't that simple," she whispered, sitting down on the edge of the couch, staring down at Spike's limp body.

"Well, of course it's n-"

"In my dream, I knew he was hurt. Those dreams I kept having . . . there was so much _pain_. I should've been able to keep him out of danger. It was my fault."

Giles squeezed her shoulder. "No, Buffy," he said reassuringly, "it wasn't."

But he could see nothing he could possibly say would change her mind. So Giles patted her shoulder gently before leaving to give her some time alone.

* * *

"Why does Buffy grieve over Spike's body? There is nothing left there."

Angel rubbed his eyes, looking up at Illyria. They and Gunn were just getting ready to leave. Andrew and some of the other Slayers had helped patch up their wounds, and a good rest would have been nice, but Angel knew LA was calling their names.

"She's . . . just taking some time, Illyria. You've seen grief before, and I know you've experienced it, whether you like it or not. Spike . . . gave his life for her. For us."

Illyria nodded. "This is admirable, I suppose. I was accustomed to his presence. Also to hitting him. It is an unfortunate happenstance that he is dead."

Angel smiled bitterly, knowing this was Illyria's way of saying that she would miss Spike.  
Illyria cocked her head to the side. "But it is _you_ I do not understand, Angel. This Buffy is the love of your life, is she not?"

Angel sighed. "Yes and no."

"You are letting her go, once again. We are leaving."

"That's right. Buffy and I talked about this. We understand how we feel about each other, now."

"And what is that?"

Angel shrugged. "Just . . . a different kind of love. That's all."

* * *

"Our great warrior has passed into the other realm," was Andrew's wailing voice.

Xander, who was sitting in a kitchen chair, looked up at him with an annoyed expression. "Could you . . . not, Andrew?"

Dawn sat with her head in her hands beside him. "This . . . sucks," she said flatly. Xander thought he noticed a tear in her eye, but he decided not to mention it.

Giles stood leaning in the doorframe of the kitchen, his arms crossed. "Most of the Slayers are outside enjoying their newly retrieved powers again," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Xander said nothing, and waited to find that no one else had much to say about it, either. It was a great achievement. They'd won. But not without a price.

Xander had always hated Spike with a burning passion. But this had been the second time the peroxide-blonde pain-in-the-you-know-what had risked everything for the sake of Buffy and for the sake of the world.

He shook his head. Maybe . . . just maybe he didn't resent Spike as much as he thought. Not anymore.

But, he supposed bitterly, it was a bit too late for that.

* * *

"You're an idiot, Spike," Buffy whispered.

She knew that Angel and his team were about to leave, and that all the Slayers were doing just fine and that she should be there for them. But right now, she wanted to talk to the one person in the castle she knew couldn't hear her.

"You're an idiot for saving my life by destroying yours. You . . . God, Spike. I just . . . I wish I could've told you . . . how I felt." Hot tears burned behind her eyes. "Why am I always too late to tell you?" She reached out and touched his cold hand, remembering the few days in which it felt as warm as hers. As warm as any human's.

"I just wanted you to know that you've always meant so much to me . . . even when we went our separate ways, you were always in the back of my mind. And until the last moment, even when your power had been taken away, you fought. You fought because you loved me . . . and I think that shows how strong you really are, Spike. How strong you've always been."

She let a tear fall onto her lap, biting her lip to keep from bursting into tears. "We won, you know. If it hadn't been for you I wouldn't have been able to destroy Maximus in time. I've never . . . felt so powerful. So strong. And even going into the battle, even though I knew there may have been a chance we'd lose . . . _you_ were my strength. You were the power that kept me going."

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Thank you, Spike. For everything, all these years. Thank you."

Wiping her eyes, Buffy was about to get up to join the others and hopefully have a bruise or two tended to, when, to her utter shock, she found herself looking into unmistakable blue eyes.  
Spike's eyes popped open, and he sat up gingerly.

Looking up at her, he smiled a little. "Hey, look. I'm dead again!"

Buffy found herself shaking as she sat up, gawking at him. "Spike?" she said hoarsely.

"Did we win?" He looked around, surveying his surroundings. "Judgin' by the fact that this place hasn't been destroyed and I hear voices of various Slayers-in-training in the next room, I'm gonna say we did."

"You . . . you're a vampire, again," she whispered.

Spike nodded. "Yeah, I am. Guess you defeated that Maximus ponce right and proper, huh? Means I'm my vampire self again, I guess. And I'm gonna be right honest with you-in the last few moments before I got knocked out, I was not a fan of the humanity thing."

Buffy said nothing, biting her lip once again, a thousand emotions threatening to take control of her all at once.

"Buffy, are you okay? Bloody hell, you look like you've just seen a-"

But Buffy didn't let Spike finish that thought. She kissed him, pouring all of the love she had for him into this moment, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning forward lightly in order to push him back into the couch again.

He responded eagerly, running his hands down to her hips before wrapping his arms around her.  
Buffy broke away a little so that their noses touched, tears filling her eyes again, "I thought you weren't going to wake up, Spike."

She watched his eyes flash with recognition. "Oh . . . bugger. Love, I'm sorry . . . Didn't mean to give you a scare. Hell, I didn't really know what the bloody hell was happening when Maximus went all energy-happy. I just knew I couldn't . . . couldn't let him hurt you."

Buffy sat up and Spike followed suit. Leaning against him, Buffy breathed in his familiar scent and clutched onto his worn jacket. For a moment, they simply sat there, in comfortable silence.  
"Spike?" she said quietly after a while.

"Yeah, pet?"

"I'm going to say something. And I don't want you to deny it, or tell me I'm wrong, or push me away. Okay?"

Spike looked down at her quizzically. "Uh . . . okay."

Buffy took a deep breath and shifted her place on the couch so that she was looking him in the eyes. "I love you, Spike."

His eyes widened in surprise for a moment, before Buffy felt him take her hands in his.  
"Love you too, Buffy. Love you so damn much . . . "

She smiled into his kiss as he pressed his lips against hers, and Buffy felt, finally, that everything would be right again.


	18. Epilogue

**A/N: Here's the epilogue to "It's About Power"! Thank you to everyone who stuck with this story. I hope you enjoyed it. DISCLAIMER: This was written for entertainment purposes only.**

* * *

"So, because all the energy was returned, Spike's un-deadness was returned. Man. I wonder if the news channels will cover that part," Kennedy quipped.

Spike rolled his eyes, and Buffy laughed from her comfortable seat on his lap. They, all of the Slayers, as well as Angel and his gang were still awake on this night of nights. Defeating Maximus, thus restoring power to the Slayers (and reviving Spike) was definitely worth celebrating.

"If it hadn't been for Witchy Wil here, though," Faith said, "We'd all be toast."

Willow blushed, and Kennedy squeezed her hand. "Oh, it wasn't me . . . you all did all the fight-y and protect-y stuff."

Everyone was fervently discussing all that had happened in the last few hours, bringing the Slayers up to date. Buffy, however, stayed silent, watching the peace finally unfold.

"You all right, pet?" Spike asked, breaking Buffy out of a bit of a trance.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Why?"

"You've been through a hell of a lot tonight, is all."

Buffy snorted. "Am I the one who died for about twenty minutes? No. I'd say you're one-up on me in the 'been-through-hell' department."

"Cute," he said sarcastically, lightly kissing her nose. Buffy grinned. It was then she noticed Angel gathering his weapons up, getting ready to leave. Gunn was just saying his goodbyes to Willow. Illyria stood near the door, seemingly staring off into space.

Buffy stood up, taking Spike's hand. "C'mon," she said.

She led Spike through the clusters of teenage Slayers, reaching to tap Angel on the shoulder.

However, Angel was already turning to face her before she even touched him. She smiled a little. "Ah. The super-smelly-senses thing. You knew I was here."

He nodded, glancing between her and Spike. "Yeah." He smiled a little, as well. "Well, Spike. I think it's safe to say you've died more times than me."

Spike crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, Peaches. You're gonna have to start catching up."

Buffy laughed, and leaned over to squeeze Angel's hand. "Thank you. For coming out here to help."

"It's no problem," Angel said, "Gotta look out for each other, right?"

Buffy nodded. "Right."

"We are wasting time, Angel. We must move," Illyria said flatly.

Buffy grinned. "Uh, bye to you, too, Illyria. Thanks for the help. You, too, Gunn."

Gunn slung a bag of weapons over his shoulder. "Anytime, man. I'm all for a good apocalypse . . . as long as I can prevent it, I mean."

Spike took a deep, awkward, unneeded breath. "So, uh. Poof. I'm gonna stay here, 'stead of go back to LA. Help the helpless in Scotland. Y'know."

Buffy watched as Angel's expression hardened for a minute, then relaxed once more. "I figured, Spike. It's fine. We can handle it in LA. If we need your help, we'll give you a ring."

"Yes," Illyria quipped, "I enjoy sparring with you, half-breed."

Spike smirked. "I'll miss you, too, Blue."

Turning to walk away, Angel looked at Spike once more. "Remember what I said, Captain Peroxide. Before the battle hit. It still applies."

Angel gave Buffy a final smile before walking away, Illyria and Gunn in tow. Buffy watched them go, a twinge of sadness in her heart. Yet, she couldn't help but wonder...

"What was he talking about?" she asked, looking up at Spike.

Spike shrugged. "He said to take care of you or the ponce would kick my arse."

Buffy giggled, leaning against Spike's shoulder. "Yeah. That sounds like him."

They both turned to watch the scene before them. Willow had her arms around Kennedy, chatting with Satsu and a few other Slayers. Dawn had just swatted Xander's arm playfully over a joke he'd said, while Giles was helping patch up a wound on Faith's neck, smiling at her absently.

"I will, you know, love," Spike said quietly.

"You'll what?"

"Be here for you. Take care of you. Help you when you need it." He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "You can handle yourself; I damn well know that. But if there are times when you can't . . . I'll be here, yeah?"

Buffy leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I know, Spike. I know." She sighed. "Well, we might as well go celebrate. Chances are we'll have a new baddie to face by morning."

Spike chuckled. "Good idea, love."

They walked back to the group, the powerful Slayer and her vampire hand-in-hand.

FIN


End file.
